Jurassic Park The Nublar Chronicles
by segisaurus
Summary: One week after the incident at Isla Nublar, InGen dispatches a small team to the island to retrieve data vital to the survival of the company.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Aftermath**

The air conditioning unit clicked loudly in the morbid silence of the conference room, coupled with the dull bubbling of the water cooler which sat stationary in the back corner, having never been used. The only other sounds in the room were the occasional shuffle of feet or the rustle of paper. Occasionally somebody cleared their throat, or shifted position in the deeply padded leather office chairs. The room was painted a uniform cream colour, although most of the walls were covered with plaques, scientific papers and conceptual artistic images.

A long glass-topped table lay in the middle of the room, and ran for almost twenty feet before it ended just before the glass walled exterior of the building, which overlooked the spectacular cacophony of colour which streaked across the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. Thirty chairs were arranged at equal intervals around the table, with a single slightly larger chair positioned at the head of the table, opposite the exterior wall.

In this chair sat an elderly man in his late seventies, dressed in a business suit and had a long walking stick propped against his thigh. The tip of his cane appeared to be some form of beautifully cut orange crystal orb, in the centre of which lay an entombed mosquito, its limbs frozen in place, perfectly preserved. He sat very still, his elbows planted on the tabletop, his fingers interlocked, politely observing the people before him.

Along one side of the table sat a group of casually dressed civilians, in varying states of temperament and injury. There were two men in their late thirties, a young woman in rimless spectacles and two children.

The first man sat stiffly, wearing a checked shirt and a fedora cowboy hat, which he neglected to remove. His face bore a lack of expression, as if he were suppressing his feelings towards this situation.

The second was reclining in his seat slightly, the beginnings of a semi-amused smirk playing on the corners of his mouth. He was dressed entirely in black, matching his thick growth of hair atop his head. One of his legs was bandaged, and sported a long splint, causing the man to sit somewhat awkwardly, with his injured leg positioned slightly out to the side.

The woman leaned against the table, slouched forwards slightly in her chair, her dirty-blonde hair cascading down into a pool on the edge of the glass. She looked tired, and stressed.

The two children a boy of nine and a girl of thirteen, who sat impatiently, their eyes flicking back and forth to each of the adults in turn. They were both covered in little cuts and bruises, but otherwise they looked ok. The boy swung his legs under the table, and seemed eager to be involved with the situation. The girl however simply looked bored, and chewed her lip with her arms folded.

On the other side of the table however the occupants of the chairs contrasted brilliantly with the civilians. There were three men dressed in expensive grey suits who sat up as straight as their spines would allow and were slowly reading through several stacks of paper which sat within leather briefcases. Next to them sat a heavily built man in his fifties, with a bristling moustache and a crew cut, dressed in somewhat ragged clothing. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips. He too was reading, although he merely had a single sheet of paper of in his hand, and seemed to have read it several times through already.

"So," said one of the suited men finally, a middle-aged, balding man, "the island remains."

"Pardon me?" said Alan Grant, staring coldly at him.

"The...animals; they're alive?"

The civilians nodded silently in unison, all eyes fixed on the suited officials opposite them.

"Then the island is still viable," said another of the suited men, a weedy man in his twenties, seemingly exhilarated by the concept of what he was talking about.

"Absolutely not," said the elderly man at the end of the table, "that island is off limits to anybody and everybody."

The three men stared at him for a moment, and the balding man glanced at the survivors opposite them, and appeared to make a decision to let the matter slip in their presence. He merely nodded minutely, and looked down at the sheets of paper before him for a moment.

"Donald Gennaro, investor representative; deceased," he read out, "John Arnold, chief engineer; deceased. Dennis Nedry, chief programmer; deceased. Robert Muldoon; Park Warden; deceased."

He looked up from the paper at the survivors opposite him, who all sat up a little straighter and grew visibly tenser. The children bowed their heads, looking upset and uncomfortable. The elderly man cleared his throat loudly at the sight of the children's distress, but the balding man took no notice.

"These people had all been subject to non-disclosure agreements, and were required to devote a large proportion of their time to their jobs. As such their families are now suing InGen for...generously proportionate sums of money."

"I don't see what this has anything to do with us," said Ellie Sattler, frowning, "we've already said the same thing to officials and InGen representatives over and over."

"Indeed you have, Dr. Sattler, but I would like to get the facts straight here and now with the survivors present. Now, you are sure that these employees are deceased?"

They all nodded again.

"There is no chance that they may still be alive?"

They all shook their heads.

"Then the island must be returned to its original state immediately if InGen is to survive this catastrophe," he said.

The room was suddenly filled with cries of outrage.

"It should be destroyed!" said Grant, getting to his feet and leaning over the table. "That island is dangerous, it always was."

"Of course, I appreciate the gravity of your situation, Dr. Grant. But please, sit. We would not undertake such a venture lightly."

Grant stared at him for a second longer, before slowly receding back into his seat, taking a deep breath.

"The loss of human life and the potential threat to the public is very much a concern of the InGen board of directors, but the fact remains that there are hundreds of millions of dollars worth of property on that island. The issue of how to deal with the situation is still controversial, but I am confident that it will be resolved in due time. Now, you have all been summoned here to remind you that the non-disclosure agreement that you all signed before visiting the island still stands, and that you all receive compensation for any inconvenience caused by this incident. Thank you for coming; there is a helicopter on the roof of the building waiting to take you to Newark International Airport."

The survivors stood up, with the exception of the elderly man, who merely turned in his chair to them and nodded curtly. Grant and Sattler walked towards the door, looking angry and grateful to leave the room. The two children hurried over to the elderly man and hugged him fiercely.

"See you, Grandpa," they said and then followed the two scientists out of the door, although the boy looked back as he crossed the threshold of the door, as if he wanted to stay behind in this serious conversation.

The man dressed in black however hung back for a moment, and turned to face all of the men in the room. He limped slightly on his injured leg, and grasped the head of the nearest chair for support. "Don't think that any non-disclosure document will keep me from telling the truth. You're not covering this up, John."

"Of course, Dr. Malcolm," said the elderly man, smiling up at him, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"_That _is yet to be seen," said the balding man, adjusting his thick spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

Malcolm looked at the elderly man for a moment, and nodded. He lifted a crutch up from beside his chair, and walked towards the door.

"Thank you again for coming, Ian, I'll be seeing you" called the elderly man politely.

Malcolm waved his hand in recognition as he ambled towards the door. "I'm sure you will, John," he called back, his voice echoing back to them as he retreated down the corridor, "Chaos has a way of repeating itself."

John Alfred Hammond smiled to himself distantly as Malcolm's voice faded away, still spouting his characteristic quirky remarks as he headed after the others. He turned to the four men before him, who were now closing their briefcases in a business like way, and stared back at him.

"You really have done it this time, Uncle," said the balding man. "This incident is going to cripple InGen if we don't act now."

"Yes, Peter, thank you" said John Hammond quietly, turning his cane in his hand slowly, staring down into the orb of amber at the tip of his cane. "But that island wasn't meant to be. It was my dream, but it was so badly executed. People died. InGen cannot reclaim that island, I will not allow it. And besides, they will not stand for it," he said, nodding towards the door, indicating the vacated survivors. His voice travelled clearly through the room despite the fact that it was barely more than a whisper. There was still the adolescent energy in his voice, just as there always had been, but it was now scarred, sorrowful.

"Yes, how _do_ we deal with them if they babble to the press?" said the third of the suited men, speaking for the first time. He had a neat, organized haircut, and he had a definite air of being immaculate. "That Malcolm character looks risky."

"Easily taken care of," said the balding man, Peter Ludlow. "We pass him off as simply lying, discredit him. His field is laughable in the eyes of the public. Mad scientist raving about new technologies and all that; you know how it is."

Hammond slowly rose from his chair, and ambled across the room, leaning on his cane, stopping at the glass outer wall. He looked out at the New York skyline, a million tiny lights emanating from the windows of surrounding skyscrapers. The sky was pink, and from his position on the top floor of InGen headquarters he could still hear the distant honk of vehicle horns far below, and sighed as he caught sight of his reflection against the pink sky. He was an old man; this situation was beyond him. He heard a dull whine filter through the thick glass as the helicopter rotors rumbled to life one floor above them.

"We're not discrediting anybody, Peter," he said, "And that island needs to go."

Those animals were a miracle of nature. His dream; his creations. But this incident wasn't going to go unnoticed for very long. It had to be destroyed.

Ludlow shook his head.

"Sorry, Uncle, not this time. That island is priceless as far as the company is concerned. Nobody touches it until we get what we need."

Hammond whirled around, his temper rising instantly. "What is the meaning of this? Lest you forget, this is still my company."

Ludlow remained calm, spreading his hands. "Nobody will be harmed. We send in a small team, heavily armed, no risks. They go in, recover the data from the control system's memory banks, and get out. Quick and easy; then we can destroy the island."

"Sorna. There's still plenty of data on Sorna. It's our factory floor for Christ sake; Nublar was just a showroom."

Ludlow shook his head. "Sorna is being evacuated as we speak; bad weather. I'm being told that it's possible that nothing will be left afterwards. Nublar is vital at this point."

"It's too dangerous. It's unbelievable that we didn't keep any of the data off of the islands somewhere."

"Yes, well, you wanted to make sure there was no chance of espionage. Not that it helped in the end. But that research data is priceless. If we're to have any chance of saving the company, we need it."

Hammond stared out of the window as the black silhouette of the helicopter soared overhead, flying out towards the sunset, getting smaller by the second. He nodded silently to himself.

"What do you propose?" he said.

Ludlow turned his head to the side slightly, a small smile forming on his face, looking up at his uncle. He almost looked as if he were inquisitive, wondering how much information to share with his superior. "Let me worry about the details," he said finally. "But rest assured."

Ludlow walked along the corridor outside of the conference room alongside the scraggily dressed man, who had remained silent throughout the meeting at his request. The two other suited officials disappeared off to their offices, and his uncle remained behind in the conference room, staring out the window as the sun set.

The dim light streamed down from the strip lights mounted along the ceiling, and the thick carpet deadened the sound of their footsteps.

"How long until you can depart?" said Ludlow, maintaining a steady pace along the corridor.

"If everything goes according to plan we can be ready in two weeks," said Steven Haynes, stroking the stubble on his chin. "We started organising the moment I got off the phone with you last week."

Ludlow shook his head vehemently. "No, everything has to be ready within three days."

Haynes laughed. "You're in a real hurry, we can't possibly..."

"Listen," said Ludlow, "we're on the clock here. The Costa Rican's informed the US military about the incident, and they're worried. Our lawyers are keeping them at bay as best they can, but this isn't a battle we can win. They're seeing this as a threat to national security. They'll destroy it the first chance they get."

"Well, it'll be very expensive to get it all done in time," said Haynes, scratching the back of his head uncertainly.

"Whatever it takes, get it done. You read the personnel list?"

"Yeah, I read it. What do you need Wu for?"

"He's the chief geneticist, most familiar with the data files, seeing as he supervised most of them. As you may have guessed we're all about speed at the moment."

Haynes nodded as they came to elevator door, and Ludlow he pressed the call button to go down. He heard a hum from the inside of the shaft as the cables groaned to life.

"Just to get one thing straight here; we give no quarter, right?"

Ludlow nodded. "Neutralise anything which gets in your way."

_Ding._

The elevator doors slid open, and their ears were filled with quiet, slightly annoying music. Haynes stepped into it, and turned around, pressing the button for the ground floor.

"And Haynes," said Ludlow.

"Yes, sir?"

"Protect Wu at all costs," he said as the doors slid closed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Departure

The rusty old taxi cab screeched to a halt on the dirt road, throwing up a plume of dust around the bumper, obscuring the view through the weathered windows. The cab rocked on the axle slightly at the sudden top, and the back door opened wide, and the scratchy record playing on the stereo within blared out of the vehicle.

Dr. Henry Wu unfolded himself from the interior, and stepped out into the bright sunlight of the dock at Puntarenas, Costa Rica. An oriental man, his tanned figure was suited to his black jacket and t-shirt. The sunlight began attacking his skin immediately, causing sweat to pop out on the back of his neck. The humidity made it uncomfortable to breath here, it felt as if he only had one lung, but the light sea breeze was a pleasant contrast to the stuffy confines inside the taxi. The air was salty, and carried the strong aroma of seafood. His brushed the creases out his trousers, and then turned to the driver.

"Thanks," he said, smiling as he handed over the fare. The taxi driver nodded to him, and then gunned the engine, roaring off down the road, bumping over potholes recklessly. Wu cringed at the thought of spending more time in there; his head still hurt from colliding with the ceiling.

He turned around, facing the dock, which was buzzing with activity. Before him was a small marketplace. Several small wooden stands were laden with tropical fruits, live chickens and fish, with old women heckling at passersby continuously. A crowd of people milled around here, buying all that they could lay their hands on; one man passed Wu with a wheelbarrow full of watermelon.

A sea bird swooped overhead as Wu walked into the marketplace, ignoring the bargaining of the shopkeepers who descended on the tourist like vultures. He shook his head politely to each of them as he passed, weaving in and out of the crowd, trying to not step on any chickens which pecked at the ground around him. And then he left them behind, the crows disappearing immediately, and he emerged out into the expanse of the wooden dock. It was the length of a football field, and the long wooden planks which made up its surface were over forty feet long.

Two fishing boats were moored up at the front end, bumping against the wooden planks, a few fishermen carrying crates of fish backwards and forwards. The paint was peeling off the hulls of the boats, and the men looked sullen, as if their catch had been disappointing.

But most of the activity was centred on a much larger ship moored at the very end, turned horizontal against the tip of the last wooden plank as it was too large to fit along the length of the dock. The freighter's hull rose out of the water some twenty meters, and a large on-board crane was being used to haul things up to the deck. Massive crates of supplies and equipment were piled up in great stacks off to one side, with the words 'InGen' printed on each of them, also bearing the striking blue logo of the company.

Dozens of men in blue overalls were gathered beneath the hull of the ship, and even more could be seen dashing around on deck, tying down ropes and shouting to each other incoherently. Most of them seemed to be native Costa Ricans, while a few were obviously American, and had slightly different uniforms; he guessed they were the supervisors.

On the bow section of the ship there were two helipads positioned at the tip of the deck where the railings had been removed, which were occupied by what Wu would have described as military models. They were large and bulky, the rotors long and heavy looking.

They looked more like flying tanks to him.

He stalked forwards across the dock, passing the fishing boats silently, avoiding a wet patch which was forming around the crates of fish. As he came closer he saw the inscription of the freighter's name printed on the side in large, white stencilled writing.

_SS. Venture II_

He passed the first of the large crates, and was unnerved to see that a large biohazard symbol was stencilled along the top, with warnings in several languages. But it didn't bother him too much; InGen always worked with dangerous chemicals, and he worked with them all the time. But in this situation, something in his gut told him that this wasn't good.

One of the Americans spotted him as he stopped in front of the freighter, and made a beeline straight for him. He was one of the people he had assumed were supervisors, but now Wu sensed that he was higher up the ladder than that, he had a commanding air, and smoked a cigarette.

"Dr. Henry Wu?" he said, extending his hand as he came up to him.

"Yeah, that's me," said Wu, shaking his hand.

"I've been looking all over for you. My name's Steven Haynes, I'm in charge here. I'm sorry for the rush to get you down here, but we're in a bit of a hurry. Time is short. How was your flight?"

"It was fine," said Wu as Haynes steered him towards the boarding ramp.

"Good, good. Now, I'm going to need you on-board straight away. I'll have somebody show you to temporary quarters, and you'll be briefed as soon as we depart. Rodriguez!"

"Yes sir?" said one of the workmen in a thick accent.

"Take Dr. Wu to B-3. Make sure he has everything he needs," said Haynes. He nodded to Wu, and then hurried off towards a gathering of men who were haphazardly trying to roll barrels of fuel along the dock.

Rodriguez waved him over, and led him forwards along the hull of the ship, and up the boarding ramp. It was only now that Wu realized just how much the freighter contrasted with the rest of the scene. The ship was modern, the paint fresh and gleaming. It looked as if it was brand new; and it very well may have been. The dock below was old, the wooden planks rotting. This was no large industrial port; it was a fishing village. Somebody had gone to great lengths to make sure that they carried this operation out as quietly as possible.

"Right this way, sir," said Rodriguez as they stepped out onto the deck.

The floor was made of concrete, and a small pile of supplies was already gathered on the deck near the helipads. The motor of the crane whined loudly as it swung back out, the arm dipping down, men hurrying forward and attaching the lines to the next container.

Wu followed the workman aft, towards the cabin which housed the bridge and access to below deck. They stepped through an open heavy metal door, and Wu was momentarily surprised by the sudden drop in temperature as he passed out of the sunlight and into air conditioned comfort. It was dim in here; the lights didn't seem to make up for the brightness of the sun outside.

They descended two flights of stairs, the metal rungs clanking as they pattered down to the level below. They emerged into a narrow hallway, lined with metal doors on each side positioned every few feet along. They were marked with alphanumeric designations, and Wu guessed that they were rooms.

A second later the workman stopped, and opened a door on the left, and waved Wu forwards.

"Here you go, Doctor," said Rodriguez, nodding to the door, which was marked 'B-3' in golden lettering.

"Thanks," said Wu, and walked into the room. It was tiny, barely five feet wide and a little longer. It had a stiff, unwelcome looking bed in the corner and with thin sheets and a slab-like pillow. Sunlight streamed in through a porthole mounted into the exterior wall, creating a singular shaft of gold which cut through the room and landed in a pool at the foot of the bed.

"I'll come get you when Mr. Haynes is ready to brief you," said Rodriguez, and closed the door with a snap, leaving Wu alone in the room.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed, and wasn't surprised at the fact that the mattress hardly responded to his weight.

The horn of the ship suddenly blasted through the air, the walls of the freighter around him vibrated momentarily, and left his ears ringing. He stood up and looked out of the window.

Workmen were untying the mooring lines which anchored the ship to the dock. He was astounded to see that all of the supplies had disappeared, and he guessed that Haynes had really got the workers going.

And as he watched the ship began to move away from the wooden panels, and he heard the whine of the engines grow to a roar. The sounds of the waves lashing against the hull of the ship filled his ears for a moment as the sudden movement stirred up the water.

They were underway.

"How long will it take to get there?" said Wu, taking a seat.

He was in a small, metal walled room with a table and six chairs positioned around it. Haynes sat in one of them, a thick blue folder in his grasp. There were four other men sat in the other chairs, all of whom were tall and energetic looking.

"A few hours maybe," said Haynes, opening the blue folder.

"You want to tell me why I'm here then?" said Wu, leaning back in his chair.

He had been called in the middle of the night two days ago, and had been informed of some 'incident' at the park. And then yesterday Ludlow had got onto the phone, babbling about some urgency for him to get down to Costa Rica. Something about a recovery mission, that's all he had managed to salvage from the incoherent ravings. So he had grabbed the next flight down here. But now he wanted answers.

Haynes pushed the folder over to him, and Wu opened the cover. Inside there was a full-page image of an inverted tear drop shaped smudge of green surrounded by blue. Wu instantly recognised it as a satellite image of Isla Nublar.

Haynes began to speak, more to him than the other men.

"Last week a small group of investigating civilians were visiting the InGen Nublar facility when the island suffered a catastrophic system failure. As far as we can tell approximately three hours after the main staff left on the SS. Venture the chief programmer initiated a complete system shutdown, and made away with 15 embryos in Cryo-Stasis. The security parameters failed to contain the animals, and the skeleton crew proved ill-equipped to deal with the situation."

Wu turned the page, and saw a list of names with accompanying identifying photographs. He recognised all of them at a glance, and looked up at Haynes. "What's this?"

"Casualty list," said Haynes shortly, "Staff members John Arnold, Dennis Nedry and Robert Muldoon, and the visiting representative lawyer Donald Gennaro. All have been confirmed deceased by the survivors of the incident."

Wu was shocked. He had only spoken to them last week. He had been there on the island, working as usual, without a clue of such a thing could happen. Why hadn't he been informed sooner?

"What are we doing now then?" he said. "There's no way we can continue our work is there?"

Haynes shook his head. "You're here to recover the data vital to the cloning technology, which is now only available on the control system at Isla Nublar."

"How am I going to do that? You just told me that the animals are loose on the island."

Haynes smiled. "This freighter will reach the south eastern shore in a little over two hours. Then we'll travel by helicopter to the island, and this team here," he pointed to the four men next to him, "will escort you to the control room. You'll be in no danger, I promise. You'll be off the island again within an hour."

Wu sat in his chair a moment, and then nodded. "Okay."

Haynes seemed momentarily surprised at his readiness to agree. "Okay?"

Wu nodded again. "Okay."

The freighter rocked from side to side rhythmically, and the waves surged up from the ocean surface below, sometimes soaring over the edge of the railing and splashing down all over the deck. A flock of sea birds screeched as a powerful gust of wind buffeted against them overhead. Wu walked across the deck of the ship, and staggered slightly as one wave slammed headlong into the bow of the ship, and watched as the deckhands rushed forwards to hold down the wires securing the helicopters to the floor. The barrels and crates were pushing against their restraints, threatening to pop free and crush everybody at any moment. Wu could no longer see the shoreline of Costa Rica behind him, and there was nothing on the skyline except for uninterrupted blue ocean.

"A little choppy," said a voice behind him.

He looked over his shoulder, and saw Haynes standing behind him, leaning against the railings. He was stroking his chin, and took the stub of his cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it over his shoulder into the ocean.

"Bad weather around here; weather reports show a lot of tropical storms around

at the moment. But it looks all clear around Nublar, sunny skies. So don't worry, this won't last long."

Wu nodded. "So, what are you?"

Haynes chuckled. "Call me 'hired help'."

A mercenary, thought Wu. It made sense; he was probably going to be surrounded by sharp things and guns on the island. Haynes seemed to have noticed his reaction.

"Don't you worry, Dr. Wu," he said, "we'll be there soon. You'll be fine."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Isla Nublar

"Dr. Wu to the bridge please," the intercom blared out across the ship in Hayne's voice, "Dr. Wu to the bridge." The intercom clicked off, leaving Wu in silence for a moment, his eyebrows raised as he lay on his bed. He sat up quickly and made for the door.

He stumbled out into the corridor, and turned towards the staircase leading up to the deck, trying not to sway into the walls as the freighter rocked on its axis. He could tell that they had finally reached calmer waters, as the ship no longer shuddered with the impact of waves, and the hull wasn't shuddering from the impact of the waves so much.

He grabbed the handrail, and ran up the metal staircase. He reached the deck floor, and through the open door he could see the helicopters off at the end of the bow, and he saw that the deckhands were untying the wires securing them to the floor.

They must be here, he thought.

He turned, and climbed the next set of stairs, the sound of his feet on the metal steps reverberating in the confined space. He had to say that the uniformly white painted interior of the ship did little to combat the claustrophobia. It was little being in a cramped mental hospital. Already he was relieved to escape it.

The stairs ended in front of him with a heavy metal door which stood ajar. Printed above the door was the word 'Bridge'. He walked up and pushed it open, stepping into a wide, hi-tech looking room. Great shafts of sunlight shone in through large windows which stared out onto the deck of the ship, and as they were so high up they had a good view of the surrounding ocean. Haynes and the other members of his team were in there, each of them surrounded by a small pile of gear.

They were all dressed in black attire, made of a tough material which was usually worn by attack dog trainers. It had been designed carefully; there wasn't an inch of unprotected flesh aside from their hands and heads, as the trousers descended past the lip of their boots and the jackets came down past their belts. He guessed it was non-metallic armour, to reduce their weight load. Their large chests strained the fibres each time they breathed in.

They had heavy boots on, with thick soles, making Wu second guess his own Timberlands for a second. Thick padded gloves covered their hands with the same black material lined along the backs of them, although their fingers were laid bare.

What struck him most of all was the large automatic rifles slung over their shoulders, which looked very modern and hi-tech. They were long and slender, but maintained a powerful appearance, the black anodised metal glinting dully in the tropical sun. He could see a laser sight and grenade launcher attachment on each of them, and Wu started to wonder what he was getting himself into.

"Ah, Dr. Wu," said Haynes, pulling on another jacket laden with pouches and pockets. "I thought you'd like to see this."

"See what?" said Wu, stepping further into the room, taking notice of the large instrument panels running along the front of the room before the windows. Red blinking lights and alternating circular dials lined the walls wherever he looked.

"We're here," said Haynes simply, gesturing out of the window.

Wu turned to look out of the window, and saw the immediately in front of them was the featureless horizon gave way to a tiny, jagged outline rising sharply from the ocean. From here it seemed no more than a tiny rock in the sea, but Wu knew better; he'd made the trip hundreds of times before, and it never ceased to amaze him how beautiful is was.

Haynes was right; they were here. They had arrived at Isla Nublar.

The island slowly drew nearer as the freighter continued on ploughing across the pacific, the weather becoming calmer by the second as they left the storm behind them. The sun shone strongly on the deck of the freighter, and Wu took a deep breath as a light breeze washed up over the railings, provided a wonderfully cool relief as it caressed his face.

He wondered for a moment how Haynes and his team could wear all black in sun like this, let alone wear so many thick layers. Now they were at the bow section of the freighter to the left of the choppers, applying camouflage makeup to their faces, making them look even darker.

He walked out across the deck, swaying slightly to the side as the freighter rocked a little.

To his right a group of deckhands were prying the tops off of a few of the crates, and he frowned as he saw that the only crates being opened were the ones marked with danger and biohazard signs.

"Something wrong Doctor?" said Haynes as he approached them. Wu shook his head as he stopped a few feet from them, and ran his hands over the hull of the helicopter closest to him, feeling the warm metal. There was a pilot inside the cockpit, speaking into a mike on his headset and flicking switches on the instrument panel.

"What are those guys doing?" he said, nodding to the deckhands.

"Unpacking," said Haynes.

"Unpacking what, exactly?"

Haynes looked at him for a moment, dragging a line of makeup along his cheek with his index finger. "Nerve gas."

"For what? The dinosaurs can't survive for more than seven days by themselves; they should all be dead by now. What do you need the gas for?"

"I don't know, Doctor, I'm just following orders. The plan is to gas the island to take care of any potential stragglers after you've gone in and got the data."

Wu frowned.

"If you think there might be stragglers still alive, why don't you do it before we go in?"

Haynes shook his head, and grabbed a large rucksack from beside him and hauled it into the belly of the chopper through the open sliding door. "Because it'll take too long for the gas to clear if we do it now. We're on the clock here."

Wu took his hand off the helicopter, and walked up to Haynes, and he realised just how much shorter he was than the mercenary. "What are you talking about?"

Haynes just smirked at him. "No need for concern. But there is a chance that the military will destroy the island. So we have to get going as soon as we're within range."

Wu shook his head. It was outrageous that he was being sent onto a tropical island that could be attacked by the military at any time. But that's how it was these days; reckless corporate greed.

The island now took up quite a large proportion of the skyline in front of them, and the black outline had transformed. Wu could now see the shape of the island; they were approaching from the south-east, and he could see that the island rounded at the southern tip, and it extended off to the west for miles. It also stretched north from the southern tip along the eastern shore. The south-eastern portion was a collection of sandy beaches, which from here were hairline size strips of yellow against the green-grey carpet of the island. Towards the northern portion of the island however the flat land gave way to a towering mountain range.

The sun seemed to be getting stronger by the minute, but it was now midday, and he reminded himself that there was more ultraviolet radiation at this time of day. Sighing in discomfort, he opened a bottle of water he had found in the cafeteria, and poured it over the top of his head. He approached the railings, and held on, leaning over the edge, trying to catch the most of the breeze created by the movement of the ship.

Haynes and his men were busy loading the second chopper, and even began to fit a large machine gun to the floor of it just inside the door. Looking over his shoulder he saw the deckhands had finished unpacking the crates, and were now rolling giant canisters over seven feet tall across the deck gingerly.

Meanwhile the island grew ever closer, at a seemingly exponential pace.

The engines whirred below deck, and Wu looked down with a quizzical expression as he wobbled on the spot. And then he realized that they were stopping, and turning at the same time. The aft section was being kicked out, turned towards the island, while the bow was being turned away.

A sudden clanking of chains and a loud _plunk_, accompanied by a fountain of water spraying upwards in front of him signalled that the anchor had been dropped. The ship bobbed up and down for a few moments, and then stopped. They were horizontal to the island, and looking right he now faced a sandy beach. The freighter had stopped barely a mile from the shoreline, and even from here he could see the palm trees waving in the wind at the periphery of the dense jungle which enveloped most of the land surface.

"Dr. Wu," called Haynes, waving him over.

Wu walked over, stopping just before Haynes and his men, who all stood ready and waiting. Haynes took a step forwards. "Introductions all around; Dr. Henry Wu, meet John Anderson", Haynes gestured to the tallest of the men. He looked athletic, with a moulded, purposefully messy mop of brown hair. Wu liked him on sight, as he emanated a friendly air. They shook hands briefly.

Haynes passed Anderson, and laid his hand on the second man, who was in his late forties, and had deep green eyes and a deeply lined face with steel grey hair. "David Portman."

Portman nodded curtly.

Lastly Haynes smiled slightly as he introduced the last of them, who looked no older than twenty. He was thin, and only a little taller than Wu, sweating slightly and handled his weapon as if it were more unwieldy than the others treated theirs. "James Rousseau."

Rousseau smiled grimly, shifting uneasily on the spot. He looked quite pale.

"With that out of the way," said Haynes, "let's go."

Haynes grabbed the side panel on the chopper door and swung himself in, taking a seat on the opposite side. Anderson swung in after him, his rifle bouncing from its strap running across his shoulders. He took a seat opposite Haynes, and gave Wu a wink before leaning over to secure a box under his seat.

"Portman," called Haynes, "get on the gun." He pointed to the other chopper as Rousseau climbed up beside Anderson, his hands slipping slightly on the warm metal of the door. Portman clapped Wu on the shoulder, and ran around the front of the chopper toward the second one.

Haynes waved him over, and Wu climbed up into the chopper. The interior was mostly open, the floor was clear and the seats were comfortable leather. He sat down at the opposite side from Anderson and Haynes, next to Rousseau. He was shielded from the sun now, and it was a pleasant change to be in the shade.

"Why do we need a gun like that?" said Wu, gesturing to Portman climbing into position behind the large machine gun on the other chopper.

"Just want to have all my bases covered," said Haynes. "Alright, Mac, start her up."

The pilot nodded from his seat in the cockpit, and flicked a few switches. As he grabbed the two sticks in his hands there was a high whine which emanated from the rotors above Wu's head. Slowly the long blades inched forwards, the whine building to a crescendo. Quickly the speed of the rotors grew, spinning faster and faster until the blades were a mere blur. The down force started to blow into the interior of the chopper, ruffling his clothes.

Behind them the other chopper started up, the pilot visible through the Perspex windshield of the cockpit, his mouth moving silently as he spoke into his headset.

"How am I getting the data off the computers?" Wu shouted over the sound of the rotors as the thought suddenly occurred to him. It was easy enough to get into the system; he had the top level security access. But he hadn't brought any portable device with him to retrieve the data.

Haynes merely tapped a silver case below his seat. Wu decided to trust him, and his voice wouldn't be heard over the rotors now anyway. The pilot lifted the collective stick up, towards him, and the rotors whine became deafening. Wu gripped the edge of his seat as the entire chopper lifted upwards into the air. The ocean around the freighter churned up due to the gust of wind caused by the blades, and Wu looked down as the freighter fell away from him.

As soon as they were clear the second chopper lifted off, banking right to avoid them. The pilot pushed the pedals at his feet, and the chopper swung horizontally on its axis, spinning to face the island. Then they tilted forwards slightly, and the rotors blared as they swooped forwards, low over the ocean.

Looking back he saw the escort chopped just behind them, staying to the right but maintaining the same altitude. He saw Portman wave to him, the large machine gun blocking Wu's view of his body.

Looking out of the other side of the chopper, and saw that they were now only a quarter of a mile away from the base of the nearest mountains, which loomed over them, looking forbidding and mysterious. He could now clearly make out the details of the cliff sides, which were jagged and scarred, with the odd tree growing out lopsidedly from small ledges. Below them the water twisted and turned, smashing against the rocks. The roar of the ocean could now be heard over the beating of the rotors, ferociously slamming into the bottom of the cliffs. They could now make out small indentations at the base of the mountains, where the sea had cut away at the rocks over thousands of years.

But the cliffs were miles away, further north. Looking out of his side Wu saw the large crescent of beach which ran along the shoreline in front of them, a sharp contrast from the cliffs. As they flew over it, they could see that the water was calm and still, small waves washing slowly over the sand. As they came into the shallows the water changed from deep marine blue to a light, crystal clear aqua. It would have been the perfect holiday location, if it were not for the fact that it was home to some of the most efficient killing machines in history. But there was no sign of any life down there, just clear white sand. Then the beach was gone, and they flew on, into the valley.

The ground was covered in dense foliage, and Wu couldn't see much through the canopy of leaves. They soared along, literally slipping along the edge of the canopy. Leaves zoomed past his sight, and he heard scrapes and tiny impacts from below him as the metal collided with twigs and branches.

In the distance he saw a few bald patches in the jungle where large fields had been cleared, the high grass a lighter shade of green the trees which he saw below him. A flash of blue below, and Wu saw a break in the trees for less than a second; they had flown over the island's jungle river which flowed for miles. Looking south he saw the lagoon, as wide as a lake.

And then, suddenly, the trees gave way below. The helicopters roared out into a wide open field, fifty feet up from the ground. Wu's eyes widened as he saw that his genetic programming obviously needed some polishing. The lysine contingency plan had obviously failed.

The field was full of dinosaurs. Two massive, fifty foot tall giants turned their giraffe like necks, and observed the choppers. Their great bulks were suspended in water, and the brown striations running along their flanks were covered in green algae. The Brachiosaurs opened their mouths and gave long, mournful vocalisations which made the very air around them vibrate. The sound carried for miles, he used to hear them calling from his genetics lab.

There were smaller dinosaurs here too. Although they were well over thirty feet in length, he could see that they looked tiny in comparison to the sauropods. They had long nasal crests which ran along the tops of their heads, flaring out from their scalps for over three feet.

He saw Portman aiming the machine gun at them warily, his face pulled into a tight frown, but he didn't fire. It was clear even to a person ignorant of these animals that the dinosaurs below them were no more dangerous than cows.

And then the dinosaurs were gone, but Wu could still hear their mournful cries. They zipped over a thirty foot high electric fence, gleaming in the sun. He was startled to see that one section had been slammed flat, demolished. The wiring lay scattered on the grass, the concrete base crumbling.

A flock of strange orange dinosaurs screeched in alarm as the helicopters flew over them, their ostrich like bodies wheeling in fright and charging south towards the periphery of the jungle in the distance. There were some twenty dinosaurs in the single herd, but Wu frowned; there had been over fifty of them only last week. Either the rest of the herd was grazing elsewhere given their new freedom, or they were being hunted ruthlessly.

The choppers soared past the field, heading north-west. They passed over the main road, thirty feet wide and bearing the only strip of hard tarmac on the entire island. It stuck out against the uniform greenery like a sore thumb, a grey highway in a sea of foliage stretching off into the distance. Wu caught sight of the central gate, the stone structure containing the impressive wooden doors. They hung open, slightly ajar, as if they had been forced open by something.

"Looks like we'll need the gas after all," shouted Haynes over the roar of the engine. "How are they still alive?"

Wu shook his head. "I don't know," he shouted back, a gust of wind surging through the chopper, ruffling his hair. "Maybe it's something they're eating."

Anderson was smiling slightly, and was looking back at the field of dinosaurs, as if he wanted to go back and take another look. Rousseau however looked even more uneasy than he had when they had taken off; his knuckles were white as he gripped the barrel of his rifle.

"Take it easy," said Anderson.

Wu looked at Anderson for a moment, and they shared a look.

"It's his first time," said Anderson with a grin, "he's a little nervous. But he's good at what he does, aren't you James?"

Rousseau tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Here we go!" shouted the pilot. Wu looked out and saw the jungle give way again to a cluster of buildings nestled at the foot on the northern mountains, surrounded by a high perimeter fence. Or, at least, it was. Some of the sections had been trampled, just like the section he had seen in the field. But as far as he could see it was empty.

To the north there was the raptor holding pen, a concrete blob which looked more like a miniature fort Knox than an animal enclosure. Hidden in a grove of trees he could just about make out the sloping roof of the maintenance shed, the grey just visible through the grove of palms.

Directly below them was a pleasantly designed pond with precisely placed palm trees overhanging a finely mown field of grass. A small road ran across it, passing just in front of the visitor centre. This building was two stories high, and looked modern, yet tribal. The roof was cone shaped, rising up to a tip. And the walls were smooth, white stone. But there was a gaping hole in the left side of the entrance hall leading to the rotunda, which he didn't remember being there before.

The chopper banked, circling the Visitor centre, and the pilot adjusted the levers. The chopper levelled out, coming to a hover just above the road. A second later the second chopper appeared in front of them, wheeling around to face them.

"Looks all clear, Sir," he heard Portman's tiny voice say over the radio. Wu could see him training the gun in a wide arc from the other chopper, his eyes narrowed as he searched for non-existent enemies.

"Where are we landing?" Wu asked. He couldn't see an open space wide enough for both the choppers. In fact the only places on the island safe enough to land on were either the fields inhabited by dinosaurs, or the helipad.

Haynes suddenly gave a cry of laughter. "Land?" he said. "Oh no, we're not landing."

To Wu's dismay Haynes extended a winch system which he hadn't previously noticed, which hung out just below the beating blades. He produced a long length of cable, and attached it to the device, giving it a tug to make sure it was anchored properly. He tossed the cable over the side, and Wu watched it fall out of sight, unfurling towards the ground.

"No," said Wu, "Nuh-uh."

Haynes gave a small smirk, and Wu took it to mean that he really didn't have a choice in the matter. Haynes took out a metal contraption which Wu recognised only from rock-climbing, and handed it to Anderson. John clipped it to his belt, and threaded the cable through it, his hands moving deftly.

"It's easy, trust me," shouted Anderson, and with a quick raise of his eyebrows he leapt backwards out into space, and disappeared. Wu's eyes widened as he watched his fall out of sight.

A moment later the radio crackled, and Anderson's voice said, "All clear."

Haynes picked up the silver case from underneath his seat, and threaded the cable through the handle. Then he threw it over the side, and it disappeared down towards the ground.

Haynes nodded to Rousseau, who got out of his seat and grabbed one of the clips, fastening it to his belt a little with the same deftness as Anderson as shown. However, his professional movements weren't mirrored on his expression, which was a fixed frown. A moment later he too backed out of the helicopter and rappelled down towards the ground.

Haynes clapped him on the back as he steered Wu into position. Wu's heart suddenly jumped in his chest. This was crazy; he was a geneticist, not an action man. He suddenly felt very ill equipped in his checked shirt and jeans.

"You'll be fine," said Haynes, clipping Wu into the cable. Wu felt numb, and only dimly registered the fact that Haynes was forcing a pair of gloves over his sweating hands. He felt himself being turned around, and then felt his back being impacted by a sudden gust of wind as he back out of the chopper.

"Hold tight, and just slid down nice and easy," shouted Haynes.

And before Wu could react Haynes gave him a shove in the chest, and he hurtled out into space. The ground was gone, and his feet kicked in the air. The wind blew around him from all sides, and the force of the rotors above him made his clothes flap against him violently. He gripped the wire, but tried his best not to form a death grip on it. He slid steadily downwards, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Seconds later his feet touched the ground, but he had kept his eyes shut tightly the whole time, and he wasn't ready for the sudden weight of his body. His knees buckled, and he crumbled against the ground.

Wu tried to groan in pain, but all of the air had been forced out of his lungs. Something grabbed his arm, and he suffered an instant of panic as he thought that something had bitten him. But then he was lifted upwards, and he opened his eyes to see Anderson setting him on his feet, removing the clip from his belt.

"Hold this please, Doctor," said Anderson, pushing the silver case into his hands and hurrying off.

Wu stood on the manicured grass just before the road, which was whipping back and forth, forced flat by the air currents created by the choppers.

Rousseau was off to the left, his rifle held tightly against his shoulder, training the rifle from left to right, monitoring the tree line fifty metres away. Anderson had now also assumed this position, training his weapon on the area on the opposite bank of the pond.

With a light _thump_ Haynes touched ground behind him, and unclipped himself, throwing the wire away from him, and trained his rifle on the road leading away from them, facing away from Rousseau.

Wu stood in the middle of them, feeling slightly foolish. He watched as another line unfurled next to Anderson, and a second later Portman appeared, hitting ground slightly harder than Haynes had done, but unlike Wu managed to keep a standing position.

A moment later he had unclipped himself and had moved to fill the last space of the circle creating by the team, facing the ornately carved wooden doors of the visitor centre.

"Okay, Mac, that's it," he heard Haynes say into his radio.

The two cables retracted before his eyes, and ten seconds later the two helicopters wheeled around and banked left, soaring out of sight over the top of the canopy on the other side of the pond. The sound of the rotors faded quickly as the choppers raced back to the freighter, and Wu was shocked by the sudden silence which surrounded him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Not in Kansas

It was quiet, eerily so.

The only sound was the gentle rush of the wind through the trees, the branches swaying lazily from side to side. The surface of the pond lay perfectly still, undisturbed except for a few dragonflies which skirted along the waterline. In the distance a bird twittered cheerfully.

At least, he thought it was a bird.

"Portman, Anderson; take the door," said Haynes.

Rousseau and Haynes widened the sweeping arcs of their rifles to cover the area a hundred and eighty degrees around them, so that the two of them covered the space all around Wu as Portman and Anderson broke their stance and ran across the road. The gravel crunched under their feet as they ran, nimbly dodging the long metal track which had led the Land Cruisers. Wu watched as they charged up the white stone steps of the visitor centre, and kicked open the two wooden doors. The delicately carved surface splintered, and the left door was blasted off its hinges.

Anderson and Portman stormed inside, and disappeared into the building. A moment later he heard Haynes' headset crackle.

"Clear."

Haynes and Rousseau started to move off towards the road, Haynes grabbing Wu by the shoulder as he went, the silver case bounding in Wu's arms.

"Don't I get one of those?" Wu said, pointing to the headset at Haynes' ear.

Haynes smiled. "You won't need one. We'll be out of here in an hour or so."

They made their way across the road, and Wu turned to look towards the raptor holding pen. It was habitual, he had always been wary of that place, especially after that incident with that worker.

He stopped in his tracks as he caught a glimpse of movement. A black figure in his peripheral vision melted into the jungle. He frowned. It had probably been the shadow of a leaf blowing in the wind. But he wasn't sure.

"Something wrong, Doctor?" said Haynes.

"Huh?" said Wu, turning to look at him. "Oh, no, I'm fine."

Haynes stared at him for a moment, and then they began walking again. Wu stepped over the metal track, and his feet touched the white stone for the first time in a week. It was then why he realised why it was so quiet. The only time he ever came out here was when he was coming or leaving the shuttle for the boat; the place was usually a buzz of activity when he was outside.

Now it was empty.

He passed out of the harsh sunlight as they passed into the shade of the building. Water trickled down from the water features on either side of the staircase. Rousseau pattered up the stairs in front of him, his rifle at his shoulder. Haynes was close behind him, backing up the steps, facing the pond.

Wu avoided the broken pieces of wood as he crossed the threshold of the door, and passed into the entrance hall. His footsteps echoed loudly in the large, cavernous space. The roof was far above him, well over sixty feet over his head.

Strewn across the floor was the banner which had once been strung up across the ceiling; '_When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth_'. The fiery lettering was crumpled, and covered with dust and concrete from the shattered hole in the wall at the right. Wu was sure that it had been under construction when he left, and had sported some kind of tarpaulin cover, but it had been torn to shreds now, leaving the entrance hall open to the elements.

The two massive skeletons which had once stood imposingly in the rotunda lay in pieces on the floor. Their mangled forms were broken and smeared with blood. The floor was also cracked in places, indented, pushed into the floor. It was as if the ground had been compressed by something very heavy.

But what grabbed his attention were the two corpses which lay unmoving. The brown forms had been punctured several times, and the bones crushed. The first lay spread-eagled in the middle of the room. It's mouth hung open slackly, the rows of razor sharp teeth shining against the dark skin. The eye remained open in a fixed stare, and Wu shivered at the sight of it. It was over nine feet long, and would have been six feet tall had it stood up. A large single claw protruded from each foot.

The second animal lay sprawled over the left banister of the stairs, surrounded by a pile of bones from the Tyrannosaur skeleton.

"What are they?" said Portman gruffly, nudging the first animal in front of Wu with the butt of his rifle.

"Velociraptors," said Wu.

Anderson was up on the staircase, staring down at the raptor bent over the banister. "They look dangerous," he said.

"They were the most intelligent animals we brought back, they killed three workers before the incident last week," said Wu.

"If they're so smart, how come they're so dead?" said Anderson.

"They wouldn't have gone down easy, they were notoriously resilient animals," said Wu, "when we moved them from the park setting to their holding pen it took days to round them up."

"Well, look at the puncture marks in their bodies," said Portman, kicking the animal at his feet.

Rousseau turned to Wu, and he looked unnerved. "I wouldn't like to meet whatever killed these guys."

Wu smiled. "To tell you the truth I'd more worried about the raptors."

"What do you mean?" said Anderson, his voice echoing off the high ceiling as he ascended the stairs to the second floor.

"There's one missing," said Wu simply.

Anderson looked down at him for a moment, and then trained his rifle on the corridor in which led away into the building. "Where is it?"

Wu shrugged. "I don't know. Could be anywhere, or dead."

Haynes walked forwards into the entrance hall, treading carefully over the rubble. "Let's go then. The sooner we can get out of here, the better."

Wu nodded. "I'm not used to all this, you know," he said as he walked up the stairs, carefully avoiding the dead body of the raptor, holding the case out of reach. "I'm not a man of action, I'm a scientist."

"Welcome to the real world, Dorothy," said Portman from behind him, wheezing with laughter under his breath.

They walked down the dark corridor, passing doors on either side. They were made of thin wood, and had small, simple locking mechanisms. Although the power would still be on after only a week, the lights had never been turned when the system was restored.

Wu looked briefly at the doors, painted lime green.

'_Public Relations_', '_Administration_', '_Warden's Office_'.

But he didn't approach the, there was nothing of interest to him in those offices. And he had honestly never been inside those rooms. A minute later he reached the end of the corridor, and emerged into a wide open dining room. Running along one wall was a brilliantly lit mural; a jungle scene. Velociraptors, frighteningly realistic, stood crouched in the ferns, hunting a herd of the smaller duck-billed dinosaurs which they had seen earlier in the field.

The room's lights were on here, the strip lights illuminating the room full of tables and chairs. The tablecloths were made up, and a pile of deserts lay on the table, some of them half eaten. But they were congealed now, and were starting to go off.

"Looks like our friends were in here at some point," said Anderson pointing to one of the tables, which had been overturned, the cutlery spilled on the floor. One of the chairs next to it had a triple claw mark torn into it. The top of the backrest had been cleaved off entirely, as if with a saw.

"Portman; you're with me. We're going back down to secure the entrance hall. Dr. Wu, is there any other entrance to the building?"

Wu shook his head. "No, everything comes in and out through that rotunda."

"Good. Anderson, Rousseau; escort Dr. Wu to control."

Anderson and Rousseau nodded.

Wu turned left, and crossed the room towards the side of the mural. Anderson caught up with him in a few bounding steps, and made sure that he was a few steps in front of Wu. They entered another short corridor, which was uniform grey.

Behind them Portman and Haynes disappeared back down the dark corridor from which they had come.

Wu descended a small staircase, and a pair of large, circular windows appeared into the wall to their left. They were laced with small wiring on the inside. One of them had been partially shattered, a hole four feet wide had been torn through it. The edges were jagged, and were coated with blood. Looking through the glass, Wu could see that a few of the computer terminals inside had been knocked over, the wiring hanging out.

They came to stop in front of a heavy metal door. The handle was a simply lever, but there was a large lock built into the frame of the door. It looked almost impenetrable.

Rousseau walked back along to the broken window and climbed up onto the frame, peering inwards.

"I think I can squeeze through," he said.

Wu put the silver case on the ground, and unclipped a personnel card from his belt. He slipped it through a slot mounted on the wall, and there was a brief _beep_. Wu grabbed the handle and the door swung open.

"No need," he said, picking up the case from the ground and walking in.

Rousseau looked at him for a moment, and then jumped down from the window frame. "That's not cool, man," he said.

Wu couldn't help but laugh at him slightly. He stepped over a ladder which lay discarded on the ground, and moved to the main computer terminal which was situated at the back of the room.

The monitor was turned on, a black and white blueprint of the building displayed on the screen. An attractive blonde woman dressed in lingerie adorned a portion of the screen.

This was usually Nedry's terminal, which was clear due to the strange adornments he had made. Photographs of famous mathematicians and celebrities were pinned up, along with toys and empty cans of jolt cola. Paper cups and wrappers formed a small mountain at the side of the desk, some of it had been scattered all over the floor. A VHS copy of the movie Jaws lay underneath a stack of work papers.

"How long to get all this done?" asked Anderson, closing the door behind him, a loud _thunk_ proceeding it as the lock snapped into place.

"Ugh," said Wu, taking a seat in his chair, "not long. Forty minutes, tops."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Control

Haynes' footsteps echoed in the entrance hall as he and Portman descended the rotunda and into the entrance hall. They passed the dead raptor, its dead eyes staring into space, unseeing. They kept their weapons high on their shoulders, and didn't take their eyes away from the door.

Their radios crackled.

"We're in control, Sir," said Anderson.

"Good, we're in the entrance hall. Any activity?"

"That's a negative, Sir. How about you?"

"Quiet as a tomb," said Haynes, his voice reverberating in the stone building.

They reached the bottom of the staircase, and proceeded to the centre of the hall, stepping over pieces of marble and bone. The banner crumpled under their feet as they stopped ten feet from the door.

"Portman, take position at the bottom of the stairs down there," Haynes said, pointing down through the broken doors. "I'll take the entrance hall and that broken section of wall," he pointed towards the thirty foot chunk of stone which was missing from the building.

Portman nodded, and stalked off, disappearing through the doors.

Haynes strolled over to the hole in the wall, and leaned against the crumbling edge, looking outwards. He could see the edge of the pond to his left, and in front of him was the road, cutting across a large field dotted with the odd palm tree. In the distance, around fifty metres away the jungle began again. Through the foliage he could just about make out the glint of an electric fence running parallel to the road, but this one was much shorter than the one they had seen in the field, only around twelve feet high.

A light breeze blew in through the hole in the wall, soothing the sweat on his face. Distantly he heard a hooting cry float through the afternoon air towards him, emanating from the jungle.

The drives whirred, and Wu rattled on the keyboard rapidly. The blueprints of the building disappeared from the screen, and a three-dimensional interface, made up of multicoloured blue blocks set up on top of large pink rectangles, positioned in different sections within cyberspace. Each pink block housed a set of systems, smaller pink blocks leading off of larger ones to cater for the subsystems. Right now he was in the central system.

Wu grabbed the cursor and guided the view of the 3-D left, the cursor switched from one blue block to one, which was labelled, '_Command node_'.

He double clicked it, and another window opened in the middle of the screen, which was deep blue. Lines of white text began to scroll across the screen, until and then the cursor jumped to the next line, ready for command input. Wu read it briefly.

_Central Park Control Console_

_Jurassic park, System Security Interface_

_Version 4.0.5, Alpha E_

_Ready..._

Good, it was the same as always, thought Wu. He was on the right track. Truthfully, it was a rare occurrence for him to have to gain access to the system himself; he usually had Arnold of one of the technicians in here to do it for him.

He typed in, '_goto command level_', and hit return.

The screen went blank for a moment, and the disks whirred. The lines of servers running along the wall hummed loudly as they heated up. The fans overhead started up automatically as the temperature began to rise.

The computer beeped, and the blue window appeared again. Text scrolled out across the screen again for a moment, and then stopped.

It was asking for his username.

He typed in, '_Wu-Henry_', and hit return again. Almost immediately it beeped again, and more text scrolled across. Now it was asking for a password. Usually the username would be enough for elementary use of the system, seeing as it was so hard to gain access to the room, and the fact that it always had at least staff member present. It was assumed that nobody would be able to access the terminals unless they were authorised to be in the room. Not that you could do anything with elementary access—

Twin bursts of static hissed out from Anderson and Rousseau's headsets, and he heard Portman's voice distantly, the tiny voice incoherent. Anderson stood up straighter from his position at the door, putting his finger to his ear in order to hear Portman more easily. Rousseau made an identical move, moving away from the shattered window for a moment.

"What's he saying?" asked Wu, not looking up from the monitor. He kept rattling on the keyboard, entering his eleven digit password, pausing every few seconds as he tried to remember it correctly.

Anderson turned a dial on the radio unit clipped to his belt, and Portman's voice faded in as the volume was turned up. Now Wu could hear him clearly, and the sound of his breathing sounded like bursts of static.

"—some weird shit going on out here," he was saying.

"What do you mean?" he heard Haynes say.

"Some weird hooting, I don't know."

Wu looked up sharply from the monitor. "What did he just say?" Wu said.

Anderson frowned at him for a moment, and then tapped his headset. "Portman, this is Anderson; say again, please."

"I said there are some strange sounds out here. Are there owls on this island?" Portman sounded curious, and didn't seem very worried.

"Tell him to get inside, now," said Wu, standing up.

"What's going on?" said Rousseau, gripping his rifle.

"Now, damn it!"

Portman walked down the stone steps of the visitor centre, and strolled onto the road, speaking into his radio. His feet crunched against the gravel of the road, but he didn't venture out further than the metal track which ran along the closest side of the road.

The jungle looked as innocent as before, and he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. But a strange hooting sound was coming from the trees on the other side of the pond, and further up the road, near the maintenance shed and raptor pen. Once or twice he thought that it might be coming from the fence to the south.

It was coming from all around him.

He suspected some kind of tropical bird. It was a hoot; much like an owl. He didn't think that owls lived this near to the equator though. It couldn't be a dinosaur though; they roared.

Suddenly Wu's distressed voice filtered over the radio.

"-ow, damn it!" he was saying.

"What's wrong?" said Portman, pulling his rifle up and training it in wide arcs. There was something in Wu's voice which told him something bad was happening.

"Get inside Portman," said Anderson.

Before he could react, there was a low whine, and a wet _smack_. Something wet and slimy slapped into his face, and the sensation of having knives inserted into his eye sockets exploded into his brain. His gun clattered to the floor, and Portman doubled over in excruciating pain.

Portman's scream of pain cut through Haynes like a physical blow, and he surged from his sitting position on a piece of rubble. He cocked his rifle, and ran across the entrance hall towards the large double doors. There was no sound other than he footsteps; even the sound of the wind seemed to have dissipated. A shaft of sunlight struck the ground just inside, and Haynes stepped into it, and peered outside.

"Oh my god," he said.

The ground on the road just in front of the steps was splattered with a pool of blood. A scratch mark was carved into the bottom step, the stone etched clean away.

A long, drawn out blood stain ran from the road, and drew away across the grass, and around the edge of the pond. A body had been dragged that way. Haynes looked up as he caught a glimpse of movement.

A bush in the underbrush shook slightly at the edge of the jungle, as if something had just passed through it. The blood stain headed straight for it.

"Portman is down," said Haynes. "Anderson, Rousseau; make sure the good doctor is safe. I'm coming back up."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Frozen in Time

"What were they?" said Anderson.

"Dilophosaurus," Wu murmured, typing at the computer. He had gained access to the system, and was making a few diagnostic checks.

Haynes' figure pattered down the staircase outside the door, and knocked on the window. Rousseau pushed Wu's card through the slot, and the door beeped. Haynes came through, and slammed the door behind him.

"How long?" he demanded.

"I'm into the system now, just making some power distribution checks to make sure I can still access all of the files."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't know, thirty minutes," said Wu, becoming irritable.

Haynes strolled across the room, looking out through the broken window. "Portman's down, he didn't even get a shot off. We need to clear this building to make sure there's nothing else around here. Rousseau, you're with me. Anderson, stay here with the doctor."

Haynes and Rousseau left the room, and headed off back up the staircase, disappearing around the corner. Anderson turned to him, a little bit of a frown on his face.

"Any way of speeding that up, Doc?" he said.

"You want to come over here and do it?" said Wu, raising his eyebrows as he looked up from the screen.

Anderson watched his for a moment, and then a small smile spread across his face. He nodded, and resumed his position by the window. Wu noticed that he didn't seem to be too beaten up about Portman; he guessed that he hadn't really known him. Either that or he simply hadn't liked the man very much. He leaned against the concrete wall, next to the fallen ladder, and resumed his vigil.

Rousseau stalked slowly across the dining room, his rifle aimed at the back of the room, which was cloaked in shadow. Haynes had gone off back down the dark corridor to monitor the rotunda from the balcony of the second floor.

Rousseau walked carefully, stepping over the fallen table and chairs. The mural two his left was unnervingly realistic, he kept glancing at it unwillingly. He passed out of the illumination of the strip lights, and found a large steel door at the back of the dining hall. Peering inside he saw a long room full of stainless steel cabinets and cooking utensils. Pots and pans lay scattered on the work surfaces, and a few of them lay on the floor.

"I've found the kitchen," he said into his headset, "looks clear."

"We have to be sure, check it out," said Haynes.

Rousseau opened the door, and stepped into the room. The stainless steel cabinets were arranged in rows, running vertically down the room. There were three in all. It was almost like a maze. He walked down to the end of the room, stepping over a discarded soup ladle lying on the floor.

He stopped at the end, chewing his lip idly. There was nothing in here. Just to make sure he leant over, looking left. An oven lay crushed at the very end of the second row of cabinets.

He shrugged, and walked along until he stood next to it. It had been buckled inwards, like it had been struck by something heavy. At the peripheral of his vision, he saw another door. He looked up, and saw that it was very much like the control room door, but there was no window, and it was wider.

In places the hinges looked strained, but other than that it looked ok. It was unlikely that there was anything in there; after all, the door was locked. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

He marched over, and pulled the locking pin out of the socket. The door fell open before him, and Rousseau leapt back in shock.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he shouted, the back of his legs slamming into the nearest oven as he backed away.

"Rousseau, report," said Haynes.

Rousseau tried to keep his breathing steady as he walked forwards again, clicking the safety off his rifle and raising it to his shoulder again. "I've found our missing friend, sir," he said, his breaths stick coming erratically.

The third raptor stood just inside the door. Over six feet tall, the deadly looking sickle claws were poised, ready to strike. The fangs hang out, the mouth bared furiously. But the dark brown colouration of the dinosaur was crystalline, a film of clear substance covering its skin. The eyes were drooped, and unthreatening. Icicles hung from its chin and the ends of the claws on its hands. Looking past it he saw pieces of meat hung around on hooks, and cold mist clung to the ground.

The raptor was frozen solid.

"Wu, what the hell, man?"

There was a brief silence, and then he heard Wu's voice distantly, as if he were speaking from the other side of the room from the radio, but he could see he sounded perplexed. "What?"

"The raptor is frozen here in the freezer."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well it's still standing up. How can it just freeze like that? Wouldn't it lie down and die?"

He heard Wu laugh. "No. We suspected that they might be able to do that. Fascinating."

"...What is?"

"They're just like some frogs or insects. To survive cold conditions they can allow themselves to become frozen, and then when they thaw out they can come back to life, without any damage to their tissues like with other animals. Some enzyme they produce in their blood stops ice crystals forming in their cells."

"Wasn't it hot and swampy back when these guys were alive?" Anderson said.

Wu chuckled. "In places, yes it was. I suspect that it's either some primordial inheritance that they kept from their evolutionary origins, or that it was incorporated into their bodies when we filled in DNA sequence gaps when we cloned them."

"Uh-huh," Anderson's confused voice said.

Rousseau inched into the room, and stared at the dinosaur with a frown. "As amazing as that is, I'm not very comforted. Are you saying that he could come back to live if we thaw him out?"

"_She_ could, yes."

Rousseau sighed, and backed out of the room again. He really didn't like the sound of that. Like some zombie. "We can't have that," he said, and struck the raptor on the side of the head with the butt of his rifle. The raptor wobbled for a moment, and then slowly edged away from Rousseau. With a crash it slammed to the ground, and exploded into a thousand pieces. Chunks of frozen flesh scattered across the floor, and Rousseau swore as he leapt back out into the kitchen, and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Something wrong?" said Haynes.

"That was messed up," groaned Rousseau. Walking back towards the door leading to the dining hall, he tapped his ear, activating his headset. "Dining room and kitchen; clear."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Ambush

Wu popped the silver case open, and lifted the lid, revealing the contents. It was mostly foam packing, which explained why it hadn't broken from the fall from the chopper. Along the top was a long box with cables leading from it.

A portable hard drive. They were usually massive, and experimental. He had never seen one so small. He lifted it out, and plugged it into the terminal at his feet. The computer beeped as it recognised the device.

He then began typing rapidly as he began the task of transferring the genetics files and DNA sequences onto the hard drive.

"How you getting along with that?" said Anderson.

"I'm almost done in here."

"What do you mean; 'in here'?"

"I'm going to need to go to my lab after this."

Anderson frowned. "What for?"

"I need to collect some embryos," Wu said, pointing toward the small Cryo-chamber suspended in foam at the bottom of the case.

Haynes leaned over the edge of the balcony from the second floor of the rotunda, staring down into the entrance hall. The sun was at its highest point in the sky now, and even under the shade of the roof the temperature was beginning to rise. He was used to hot conditions, so it didn't bother him. But it was still annoying when sweat rolled down off his soaked forehead and into his eyes.

Stung like hell.

A hooting cry floated up towards him from the area outside the visitor centre. Haynes raised his rifle, aiming it down at the large double doors. The birdsong which had rang out from the jungle a moment before descended into silence.

There was the sound of scattering stones for a moment, and then footsteps. Heavy footsteps, emanating from several sources. Coming up the stairs towards the entrance hall.

A shadow crossed in front of the door, blocking out the sunlight. It was big, at least ten feet tall, and much longer. He saw the head, long and lined with rows of sharp teeth. Running along the top of the snout he saw a strange, crest-like object.

"We've got company," he whispered into his headset. "Rousseau, fall back to the kitchen, hole up in there. Shoot anything which comes through the door."

"Yes, sir," he heard Rousseau say.

Another shadow appeared at the doorway, and another, and another. At least four of them, standing just outside. That was too many. If they had any decent speed at least one of them would be able to get up the stairs by the time he'd got rid of the others. And he had no idea how much it'd take to put even one of them one.

As silently as possible, he began to back up into the hallway, as the shadows became shorter and the dinosaurs stepped into the building.

Haynes burst into the Warden's office, and closed the door as quietly as he could behind him. He crouched down, and wedged his gun between the bottom of the doorknob and the floor. He sat with his back against the door, bracing his legs, ready to push. He stared into the room, which was barely ten feet square. A desk stood in front of him, laden with papers. Behind it on the wall were photographs of a man dressed in khaki shorts standing in front of a caged tiger.

Apart from the single shaft of sunlight which streamed in through the tiny window on the left wall, it was very dark in here. Which suited him fine; he could hide easier.

A growl emanated from the corridor, rising and falling softly, reverberating in the confined space. It was frighteningly close; literally just on the other side of the door.

His heart leapt in his chest as a loud snorting exhale blew underneath the door. He shivered; it could smell him. A hoot rumbled through the wooden frame of the door, and he felt a light impact radiate from the door handle.

He snorting came again.

He willed it to go away, to leave him alone. Another impact rattled the door handle, and it started to bend downwards. It was trying to open the door.

But the gun prevented it from being opened. The Dilophosaur snorted on the other side of the door once more, and rammed the door in frustration.

The Dilophosaur growled once more, and then he heard more footsteps, leading away from him, towards the control room.

"Anderson, you've got incoming," said Haynes over the radio.

Wu looked up, alarmed, his face falling slack. Wasn't he supposed to be protected from all of this? They had guns, for Christ sake. His fingers stopped typing on the keyboard, midway through transferring the Brachiosaur DNA sequence files.

Anderson turned to him, and made to stalk across the room when an almost inaudible hoot floated through the window. He froze, and turned back to stare out of the room. A patter of footsteps came from the staircase, and he motioned for Wu to get down under his desk. Wu scrambled off his seat, and crawled underneath the desk, drawing his knees up to his chest to keep his feet out of view. He saw Anderson lie down right underneath the broken window, right against the wall, his rifle trained upwards, and ready to fire.

But on the other side of the wall there was silence. But it wasn't silent. It was a strange sensation, not being able to hear anything but knowing that something was making tiny, untraceable noises mere feet away.

Anderson remained absolutely still, staring upwards.

Wu felt sweat break out on his chest and forehead, and his knees began to ache with the strain of keeping them in such an awkward position. A pounding, stinging pain in his neck made the blood in his head surge as he was forced to bend over, due to the desk being so low.

And then it came. Slowly, inching forwards, a foot long skull appeared at the window. It exhaled slowly, the sound no more than a breeze, the window fogging up. The Dilophosaur moved its head along to the break in the window. It sniffed the blood coating the jagged edges, and then poked into the room. The long neck was lined with thick veins. The black striations ran along its face and behind its eyes, which were deep gold.

The fangs were sparkling white, coated with a thick red substance, which he suspected to be what was left of Portman. The head snaked its way through the window and into the room, and snarled. It looked at the computer monitor for a second, and then looked left, and right.

It hooted, and cocked its head. After a few seconds Wu realised that it was listening. The noises of the fans and whirring disks were confusing it.

The dinosaur growled in agitation, and bent its neck down, and sniffed the ground. The threads of the carpet blew around with each exhalation, and the Dilophosaur moved its head over to the ladder which lay on the floor. The dinosaur nudged the metal with its snout, and bared its fangs. Saliva drooled from its jaws, running down onto the floor, seeping into the carpet.

There was a squeak as Wu's left leg lost traction on the floor and slid forward on the floor, and his heart jumped up into his throat. The Dilophosaur snapped his head up to look at him, and saw his boot sticking out immediately. It opened its jaws wide, and gave an almighty roar of rage, the sound terrifyingly loud in the small space.

There was a single, explosive _bang_, and a flash of light from the barrel of Anderson's gun. The top of the Dilophosaur's head shattered, the crest bursting backwards. Brain matter shot upwards and slammed against the ceiling. Blood splattered the walls in a great, glistening arc.

Anderson shielded his face as thick red blood dribbled down from the hole in the bottom of its mouth onto him.

The Dilophosaur's eyes rolled up into the back of its head, and the head went slack. It fell down, and impacted the inside wall of the room just below the window. Anderson edged away from the wall, a disgusted look on his face.

The long neck of the animal slid back through the window as the weight of the body forced it to fall to the floor outside the room. It slid upwards, the broken shreds of glass tearing at the skin of the neck.

With a _thud_ the head disappeared through the window, and the body flopped onto the floor in the hallway.

"The building is clear," said Haynes in the open doorway of the control room. "None of the other animals came inside. Just that one."

Rousseau appeared from the dining room, looking harassed, and made an ugly face at the corpse of the Dilophosaur lying on the ground, which took up most of the width of the corridor. "Jesus, that's one ugly mother—"

"Did you see anything?" said Haynes.

"Nothing downstairs either," murmured Rousseau, turning and keeping his rifle trained on the top of the stairs.

"We'll stop the search then. Double the guard detail. Rousseau, you're with me; we'll take position at the top of the stairs in the entrance hall. Nothing gets in or out."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Recovery

"How's it coming?" said Anderson, closing the control room door, the locking mechanism slamming back into place with a _clunk_.

Wu sighed through his nose as he continued typing. "I'm almost there. I'll need to get down in the lab in around five minutes. When is the chopper coming back to get us?"

Anderson looked at his watch. "Forty minutes."

Wu nodded, but he was unhappy to hear that he had so stay on the island for so long; somebody had just been murdered, literally right outside the door. He wanted to leave as soon as he could.

"Any sign of Portman?" said Anderson into his radio.

There was a brief silence, and then Rousseau's voice emanated from the speakers sullenly. "No, we've had no contact."

"Or a body," said Haynes, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker, "And we can't risk retrieval."

Distantly Wu heard the mournful call of a Brachiosaurus, miles away. He could still remember what those animals had been like when they had been borne; no bigger than a puppy. But they had grown incredibly fast; far faster than his ageing acceleration had been intended. It made sense though; the primary defence of the sauropods was their size alone, and it was essential that they attain it as soon as they could.

In the afternoon sun the heat on the island became unbearable, but in the control room the air conditioning was regulated by automated sensors, and inside it was refreshingly cool. Wu felt a light, artificial breeze brush the back of his neck every few seconds, causing goose bumps to break out on his skin.

He continued typing at the terminal, and the portable hard drive hummed rhythmically beside him as the data was transferred. The computer beeped, and the humming stopped. Wu moved the cursor, and returned to the central navigation module which he had seen earlier. Now he was moving from blue box to blue box, which were mounted on larger pink blocks suspended in cyberspace. The cursor jumped from the central pink block, and travelled for a moment through three dimensional space, and arrived at a smaller one, and the screen read, '_Genetics Sub-System; GAP_'.

This data was vital. All of the DNA sequences which they had acquired could be regained in a few years simply by acquiring new samples. InGen had the largest private stockpile of Amber in the world; it was a simple matter of extracting the information locked in the bowels of the preserved insects. But this data was the key to the success of Jurassic Park, and the project as a whole.

'_GAP_' was an acronym for the '_Genetics Advancement Program_', which was a fancy name which somebody in the administration department had picked. Put basically, the program was initiated in 1989 by Wu when he discovered how some of the dinosaurs created exhibited deformities, strange behavioural patterns, or if abnormal numbers of still-births occurred. GAP was targeted at the streamlining of the dinosaur DNA, specifically the segments of RANA coding used to fill in the sequence gaps. After years of tinkering with the bases and experimenting with different species of amphibians to complete the dinosaur code, Wu began to iron out the creases. He released the new codes with each batch of animals cloned, as the most direct practical method of checking that his work was successful. This conformed to the 'grow it and find out' mentality which had been instilled in the company for some time, which was, in hindsight, unwise.

The result of GAP was that the dinosaurs in the park existed in varying stages of development, or as they were commonly referred to by the staff; version numbers. These 'versions' referred to the number of times the code had been altered by Wu and his geneticists. Most of the dinosaurs alive presently were around version 3. Some, such as Gallimimus and Triceratops, had turned out better than expected, and had only required two adjustments, resulting in them being left at version 2. However, others had proven more troublesome, such as the Stegosaurus, and Tyrannosaurus, which were still being augmented, and were presently proceeding from version 4.

The point being that without this data they would be set back all the way to the beginning, stuck with defunct animals. The DNA streams they could do without if they had to, but GAP was the key.

Wu doubled clicked on the blue block, and accessed the system. The terminal beeped, and the hard drive whirred to life again as the data stream resumed. A shape in his peripheral vision told him that Anderson had turned away from the door, and was watching him again. With a glance over his shoulder he saw a very confused look on Anderson's face, as if Wu were performing some kind of magic.

"That's some funky shit, Doc," he said, looking at the three-dimensional interface displayed on the monitor. "Looks more like a video game. Only more...complicated."

Wu knew that the system wasn't as advanced as Anderson was making it out to be, but it was still quite rare, and was often only used by those with professional knowledge of the computer. The chances were Anderson had never seen a UNIX system.

Wu just smiled, and turned back to the screen, and began typing again.

Haynes paced along the balcony of the rotunda, staring down into the entrance hall. His black suit gave him the sensation of being inside a furnace; sweat coated the skin along his back and chest. The armour which coated his clothing was heavy, and despite his strong frame carrying it around was beginning to wear him out. His upper arms were beginning to ache.

Looking up for a moment he saw Rousseau standing at the opposite end of the building, standing at the top of the staircase. He was covered in sweat and appeared to be trying to stay within the flow of air which filtered down from a vent in the wall behind him.

Haynes was unnerved by the silence of this place. He had been in tropical environments many times before, and he had been in Costa Rica for the last four days. What he had noticed what the seeming omnipresence of wildlife which seemed to accompany close proximity to the equator. The calls of birds, the buzz of insects; it was almost deafening.

But not here; there was hardly any sound at all. Even the air around them seemed to convey a sense of anxiety, and impending danger. It made him nervous, and a tingling sensation nagged at the pit of his stomach.

A squeak pierced the thickness of the quiet, and Haynes jumped. He nodded to Rousseau, and they both removed the safeties from their weapons, and trained them down over the railings, towards the broken double doors.

The squeak came again, this time higher pitched. And then it came again, in quick succession; too quick. The second vocalisation occurred before the first had dissipated. Haynes immediately knew what it meant; there was more than one.

A tiny shadow appeared in the entrance hall, stretched out to absurd proportions by the angle of the sunlight behind the object. Despite the stretching of the shadow Haynes could see that it couldn't be more than two feet tall, as compared to the shadow the Dilophosaurs had made this one was almost negligible. But it had the same basic body structure. Thick torso, a long tail held high of the ground and an S-shaped neck leading up to a strongly muscled skull.

Another shadow hopped into existence, scampering slightly on light feet.

The squeaking came again, once again high pitched. It reminded him of the calls infant crocodiles made when they emerged from their eggshells.

And then two small, bright green dinosaurs bounded into the entrance hall, and jumped up and down happily. One of them, slightly larger than the other, squeaked to the other, which hissed and lowered its head slightly, backing off a few steps.

They were no bigger than chickens, and they behaved like kittens, jumping around and chasing each other. But Haynes couldn't suppress a shiver as he watched them scamper over the fragments of bone which lay a few feet from the doors. Their uniformly black, beady eyes occupied a generous proportion of their heads, and they stared, unblinkingly. There was no emotion in them. Even from here he could sense the cold, reptilian mindset.

They gave him the creeps.

He tapped his headset, and opened a channel to Anderson. "Wu, we've got some skittish green pygmies in the lobby," he said.

The two dinosaurs looked up for an instant, staring at Haynes with wide eyes. The smaller dinosaur squeaked to its partner, and then they turned away, ignoring the men on the balcony.

There was a hiss of static, and then he heard Wu's unconcerned voice, "Compies. How many of them are there?"

"Just two," he said, watching them leap across the banner draped on the floor, and land next to the raptor carcass.

"Just stay away from them then, they shouldn't bother you."

The Compies stopped chattering to each other, and peered inquisitively at the body in front of them. They cocked their heads from side to side, and then bobbed their skulls up and down, giving sharp inhalations. The larger of the animals hopped up onto the heavily muscled hind limb of the raptor, and stared down at the pebbled, brown skin.

"How do we get rid of them?" said Rousseau, who looked uneasy at the sight of the Compies' actions.

There was a brief pause, and then Wu said, "Improvise. They won't be hard to scare away if there are only two of them."

Haynes was about to thank him when he performed a double take. "What do you mean 'if there are only two of them'? How many of these things are there?"

The radio crackled loudly in his ear, and then Wu's voice hissed into focus again. "Oh, a few," he said vaguely, the sound of his rapid typing filtering through the channel.

The second Compy now hopped up onto the Raptor's neck, and squeaked to the other. They both froze for a moment, and peered around them, as if afraid that they were about to be discovered.

And then, as if sensing an all-clear, the larger of the green dinosaur dipped its snout into one of the puncture wounds of the dead raptor, and drew out a long string of bright red flesh. They were scavengers.

Haynes raised his rifle, and activated the laser aid. He peered through his scope, and saw the red dot appear on the ribcage of the first animal, magnified several time. He put his finger to the trigger, but hesitated slightly. They weren't threatening him in any way, and they were just little lizards.

At the last second he swung the muzzle of the rifle down slightly, so that the red dot landed on the floor next to the raptor's foot, and pulled the trigger. A single round blasted from the barrel, and an area around one inch square of the floor erupted. The _bang_ echoed considerably off of the stone walls, and the little dinosaur squealed in fright, leaping three feet into the air. They leapt from the Raptor body lying on the floor, and sprinted for the door, disappearing from view, leaving only their agitated vocalisations behind.

Wu lowered the hard drive back into the foam packing within the silver case, and closed the lid. He typed on the console, and the GAP data files disappeared from the screen. The terminal beeped, and the three-dimensional interface appeared again. He accessed the command node once more, the blue background casting a deep marine colour on his skin. He signed out of the system, and then turned on his swivel seat.

He was about to call out to Anderson when the radio crackled loudly, and a whine of feedback built up to a crescendo. And then abruptly a man's voice cut through the interference, his voice loud and urgent. "—this is Captain Terry Davis, please copy!"

Anderson turned around, and looked at Wu.

Haynes' voice crackled again over the radio; "Go ahead Captain."

"He's the captain of the freighter," said Anderson in response to Wu's confused frown.

The man's voice crackled over the radio again. "We have an emergency; we need you to evacuate the island as soon as possible."

"When and where?" said Haynes.

"We can't risk getting to the visitor centre; you'll have to meet us halfway, at the helipad. They chopper is prepping to leave now; ETA, twenty five minutes."

The sound of the ship's engines could be heard over the radio, and the sound of the deckhands scrambling around and shouting to each other mixed in with the static. The foghorn blared out suddenly, and the radio whined again under the increased volume.

"Acknowledged, Captain, we'll be there," said Haynes.

The static died, and the radio clicked, falling silent.

Wu stood up, and grabbed the silver case. "I'm done here."

Anderson nodded, and tapped his headset, opening the communications channel again. "Sir, this is Anderson. Wu is done with the files. He says he has something else to do though."

"Will it take long?" asked Haynes.

Wu shook his head, and Anderson conveyed his message through the radio.

"Alright, go."

Wu headed for the control room door, and slipped his card through the slot mounted on the wall. The door beeped, and the lock retracted with a _snap_. He turned the handle, and pulled open the heavy metal door. Anderson followed him out of the door, and they stepped gingerly over the heavy carcass of the Dilophosaur. Wu wrinkled his nose at the smell which seemed to emanate from the dinosaur; it was unfortunately very similar to vomit. The saliva had drooled out from the gaping jaws, forming a small puddle in the middle of the corridor, saturating the carpet.

"So, where to?" said Anderson, stepping over the red crest of the dinosaur.

As the silver case bounced along, Wu headed for the staircase. "Genetics," he said.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Centre Cannot Hold

Anderson walked down the dimly lit corridor behind Wu, looking left and right habitually, keeping his weapon ready. Wu led him up the staircase and walked across the dining room towards the opposite side, towards what looked very much to Anderson as nothing. Wu came to the wall, and slipped his card through a slot mounted on the wall, apparently to which there was no door to unlock. However, as the card went through there was a beep, and there was the sound of escaping gas, and a metallic _clunk_. A small crack appeared in the wall, blue-tinted light filtering through the gap. Slowly, the door slid horizontally into the adjoining wall, and left a hole in the wall. The light which emanated from the lamps was strange; it was bright, but the strange blue colour made it hard to see. Weird; light, and yet dim.

Wu walked through, and into the corridor. Anderson frowned for a moment; this place was weird.

They stalked along the gleaming white tiles which covered the floor. It was cold in here, even colder than the control room had been. The bare, milky walls did nothing to increase the feeling of warmth either. Wu came to stop in front of a wooden door at the end of the hall. Above the door frame, the words '_Genetics_' were marked in surgical white letters.

Wu twisted the handle and the door swung open, the hinges squeaking slightly. The room in front of them was forty feet long, and twenty feet wide. Everything was painted in the same white colour as the writing above the door outside.

Microscopes with digital displays were lined against the right wall, and large machines with wires running from them were bunched together at the back of the room. Running along the exterior wall of the building were desks and work surfaces. Most of them were covered with papers, photographic images or printouts from the microscopes. One a few of them were vials marked with biohazard signs.

Several computer monitors were mounted on the walls, showing endless lines of letters, scrolling rapidly, almost a blur. In some places the lines were broken, and the monitors paused their scrolling momentarily when these appeared, before the gaps were filled in and the scrolling continued.

They walked into the room and the door swung shut behind them. It was even colder in here than it had been out in the hallway, it was approaching refrigerator temperatures. But he had to admit that it was oddly refreshing. Normally he would have wondered how anybody could work in these conditions, but after the humidity of the air outside it was like slipping into a cool shower.

Anderson walked up to one of the computer monitors, and rested his weapon on the table, staring at the scrolling letters on the screen. They were the same letters, over and over, but in different sequences. He couldn't see any pattern in the code, but he had the distinct impression that it wasn't random. As far as he could tell, there were only four letters; G, T, A and C. He didn't know much about the subject at all, but he did his best to remember his high school science knowledge.

He looked up at Wu, who was donning a lab coat, face mask and rubber gloves.

"This is DNA?" he said.

Wu nodded, the rubber glove snapping against his forearm as he applied the glove to his left hand. "Deoxyribonucleic acid; contains the instructions on how to construct and maintain a living cell."

"You mean like a recipe?"

"Yeah, you could put it that way. That's a stream of DNA we recovered recently from an insect preserved in amber. You know much about genetics?"

Anderson wanted to nod, but instead made a strange wobbling of his head.

Wu smiled, tying the face mask around his head. "The four letters on the screen represent four bases; Guanine, Thymine, Adenine and Cytosine. When used in different combinations they carry the encoded instructions to manufacture a particular amino acid. Each 'instruction' is encoded in one part of the double helix strand, and is called a gene. DNA itself is organised into structures called chromosomes. In organisms which reproduce through meiosis the offspring has one pair from each parent carried via the gametes. The chromosomes determine characteristics of an individual, and appear in great diversity, even within the same species. These mutations are what makes my eyes black and yours blue, why you're taller than I am, that kind of thing. In this case we can control the chromosomes of our dinosaurs, and we've used that to our advantage. All of the dinosaurs have been denied the X chromosome required to create a male organism. Therefore, all the dinosaurs in the park are female, due to population control."

"Ah, I understand now," lied Anderson. "What are the gaps in the letters then?"

"Even though the insects have been preserved remarkably well, the blood they ingested which belonged to the dinosaurs did undergo some degree of degradation, we suspect its either from oxidizing compounds or the result of electromagnetic radiation emanating from the Earth's core. Whatever it was, it left the DNA with some gaps in it. To complete the strand we had to fill it in with RANA gene codes."

"RANA?" asked Anderson.

"Amphibians, specifically frogs. They're similar in evolutionary ancestry, and their genomes are somewhat closely related."

"So the dinosaurs are part frog?"

Wu paused for a moment, and then shrugged, and nodded. "Yes, I suppose so. However, most of the genomes we used were identical to the originals."

"How can you tell the difference? I mean, if you cloned them then you'll see what they're like, but you changed their DNA, so they could be different from what they used to be before they became extinct. Since you don't have a frame of reference doesn't that make them a fundamental paradox?"

Wu observed him for a moment, and then grinned, almost appreciatively. "Yes."

He turned towards the back of the room, where a heavy metal door was off to one side. A camera mounted on the ceiling swivelled back and forth in narrow arcs, monitoring the area around the door frame.

Anderson followed him, and as he came closer he saw the words '_Decontamination airlock_' stencilled onto the glass of the door in red letters.

"Do I need those?" said Anderson, indicating the protective gear.

Wu shook his head, slipping his card through the slot next to the door, causing it to slide open with a beep. "You won't be handling them."

The chamber was less than three feet deep before another heavy steel door marked the back. The floor was made up of a metal grate, below which he could see a large fan spinning slowly. The walls were sparkling, reflecting metal, and showed no sign of ageing or dirt. It was a clean room.

They both steeped into it, and the door hissing shut behind them, the lock snapping into place. Anderson felt his ears pop, and there was a strange hum building from all around him. He looked at Wu questioningly.

"Vacuum sealed," said Wu. "We're being pressurized and cleaned."

"What do you mean cleaned—?"

An explosive roar emanated from the ceiling, and Anderson suddenly felt his entire body become soaked in a freezing, thin liquid which smelled strongly of a hospital ward. He guessed it was disinfectant. He began to shiver in the cold, and saw his breath was now showing as small puffs of vapour as he exhaled.

The hum became louder suddenly, and Anderson felt a gush of wind soar from the floor, and felt his skin dry out as the liquid evaporated instantly. He was still partially wet around his legs and his head, and his clothes were damp. The hum became louder still, and reached a peak, before the wind gushed once more, very warm this time, which lasted for ten seconds.

With a beep the inner door slid open. Anderson stumbled into the room, his clothes steaming and his body now completely dry. It was freezing in here.

The entire room was white, and it was around half the size of the genetics lab they had just left. The walls were made up of glass, and he saw that it was slightly elevated, cut off from another, much larger room. In the middle of the room were three white, tall cylinders. Wu went to a desk next to the airlock, and put down the large silver case. He popped the lid, and revealed the Cryo-chamber in the bottom. This was a long silver tube, with a smaller box attached to it by thick black tubing. He removed the lid, and Anderson could see two dozen intricately laid cylindrical slots.

Anderson looked out through the glass walls, and looked down into the larger room. It was very dark, and it was full of small tables, which seemed to be topped with bundles of straw and hay. And something else was down there. He frowned.

"Eggs," said Wu.

He was right. Hundreds of eggs were mounted on top of the tables. A robotic arm stood sentinel beside each table, the grappling hand stationary and dead. The eggs looked like ostrich eggs or something, although they did look a little synthetic, as if they were made out of some sort of plastic.

Beyond the tables, mounted into the concrete back wall was a large glass pane cut in a modern shape. Through it he could just about make out dozens of padded red seats, like a cinema.

"What kind of place is this? It looks more like a showroom than a high-tech laboratory."

He turned around, and saw Wu lifting the lid of one of the cylinders, ignoring his question. There was a hiss of escaping gas, and a pool of pale mist streamed out of the cylinder, which fell to the floor and dissipated.

An inner cylinder rose from the outer shell, revealing row upon row of small orange tubes. Long, Latin names marked each column. Anderson read a few of them, sounding it out the phonetics slowly. '_Metriacanthosaurus, Baryonyx, Brachiosaurus, Tyrannosaurus_'.

Wu made a grunt. "The bastard," he growled.

"What?" Anderson said.

"Nedry; he stole them."

"He stole dinosaur embryos?"

"Yes, one of each species by the looks of it. This is pretty much what I need as well."

He began plucking one tube from each column, and transferred them to the Cryo-chamber in the silver case.

"Wu's almost done here, Sir, we'll be ready to go in three minutes," Anderson's voice said over the radio.

"We're going to need a vehicle," said Haynes. "Wu?"

"The garage," said Wu. "Outside on the left, there's a ramp which leads underground. There should be a few gas Jeeps in there from the eastern maintenance shed."

Haynes gave Rousseau the thumbs up, and then both marched the staircase and pattered down the steps, their footfalls echoing in the entrance hall. The crossed the floor quickly, jumping over the broken bones and pieces of rubble. The hot afternoon air filled their lungs as they passed out of the shade of the building and into the harsh sunlight.

They ran down the steps and turned left, heading down the concrete surface of the road, following the metallic strip which seemed to lead directly to the garage. With a rapid babble of chatter six Compies appeared in front of them, and chirped, jumping up and down excitedly.

The two men didn't falter in their stance, and simply ran through the seemingly harmless animals, continuing down the road. However, the Compies ran beside them, leaping around them. It looked quite playful, like puppies that wanted you to throw the ball. They steadily got braver and closer, until finally one of them jumped up at Rousseau, and he was forced to beat it away with the butt of his rifle.

After a hundred metres the strip took a wide turn ninety degrees to the left, and followed the road, descending below ground level. They ran down into the dim recess, and came up to a metal grate door. A control panel was mounted on the wall, one button on the top green, the one below red. Haynes pushed the green button, and with a whir the metal door slid upwards, revealing a dark interior.

They swung their rifles around quickly to make sure that there was nothing hiding inside, and then hurried forwards into the midst of the vehicles. Almost of all of them were Toyota Land Cruisers, decorated in an elaborate jungle vinyl scheme. Dozens of them, lined up nearly on a patchwork of the metal strip that lined the road outside.

"Over here Sir," said Rousseau, jumping into a Jeep parked haphazardly against the right wall. The engine roared to life, and he put it into gear. Haynes came forward and jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind him. They drove up out of the garage, and Rousseau navigated around the gaggle of Compies still chattering and jumping around them, and drove back towards the entrance to the Visitor Centre.

"Go on, go," said Haynes to the Compies, waving them away.

The Compies simply squeaked in excitement as his movements, and concentrated their leaps around his window. Rousseau pulled up outside the marble, steps, and the engine spluttered, and died.

"Go on, get!" shouted Haynes.

With a unanimous squeal the Compies ducked and scattered, appearing to almost evaporate into the grass.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Haynes, just as the soft hoot drifting through the open driver's window. Haynes paused, and closed his eyes. He slowly raised his rifle, and took a deep breath.

A second later Rousseau gave a piercing shout of pain as his entire head was engulfed by the jaws of a Dilophosaurus, which launched itself through the open window. Rousseau's limbs flailed wildly, and his gun was useless in his wringing hands.

"Sir, what's going on?" Anderson's voice crackled from the radios.

Haynes gave a howl of terror, and scrambled for the latch on his door. The door fell open with a _clang_, and he fell backwards onto the concrete floor, the air forced from his lungs by the awkward position.

"Sir, please respond!" shouted Anderson's voice, tiny over the speakers.

Looking back up he saw the Dilophosaur drag Rousseau's twitching body through the driver door window and onto the opposite side of the road.

Haynes climbed shakily to his feet. His arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably, and his vision had become blurred. He climbed to his feet, and aimed his rifle around him. Nothing but air.

He took a single breath to calm himself, and slammed his door shut. A dark sharp loomed up over him from where the metal surface of the door had been a moment before, and slammed into him before he could move a muscle. Haynes gave a yell as he was sent flying. He landed on the concrete, skidding along and banging his head on the base of the steps of the Visitor Centre. His face burned fiercely, and he felt something warm trickle down his chin.

He looked up and gasped as a dark shape, ten feet tall sped towards him.

A sharp scream rang out through the genetics lab, emanating from Anderson's radio. Wu paused for a moment in shock, almost dropping the _Stegosaurus_ vial he was holding. Anderson turned away from the window and tapped his headset.

"Sir, what's going on?" he said, signalling for Wu to keep going.

The radio simply hissed, and the sound of something heavy being slammed around carried through the distorted signal. A loud creak and then a thudding impact made Wu flinch instinctively as he reached for the _Leptoceratops_ vial, and plucked it from the hazy cylinder.

"Sir, please respond!" shouted Anderson.

Nothing answered him but static. And then suddenly they heard Haynes give a yell, and they didn't need the radio to hear it. It emanated from the speaker, but it also carried easily from the front of the building. Then the radio crackled, and went silent.

"Sir?" said Anderson, tapping his headset several times. "Sir, please copy."

There was no response.

Anderson stood in silence for a moment, and then sighed. He headed for the airlock door, and it opened automatically with a beep. "Come on, we need to get out of here right now."

"Just as well," said Wu, slamming the silver case shut, "I'm done."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Escape

"Come on, let's get the fuck out of here," said Anderson, running across the genetics lab towards the door. Just as he was about to grab the handle it burst open, and Haynes spilled into the room. He was wild eyed, and he sported a slashing tear along his right cheek.

"Sir how did you—?" began Anderson.

"Shut the door!" shouted Haynes, and lunged, slamming the door shut.

A moment later there was a loud thud on the other side of the door. A hooting cry filtered in through the wood to them, and then a low, reverberating growl. The thudding sound came again, louder this time.

"No way out," Anderson said, looking at the door. "Can we get out through the other door on the other side of the airlock?"

Wu shook his head. "It leads back out into the corridor leading to the dining room. They'd get us within seconds."

Anderson cursed. "Okay, how many of these things are there?"

"Six, at most," said Wu. "We had eight adults in the park setting, you've killed two. Assuming none of them have been killed by something else, there are six left."

Anderson added his weight to the door as a precaution; the door didn't look strong enough to hold them back for long. The area around the lock was already beginning to groan under the strain.

"We don't have enough firepower to open the door and take six of them down before they get us," said Haynes, grunting.

Wu grabbed the silver case as he leapt to his feet, and walked along the exterior wall of the building, looking out. Through the small window, he could see the rounded roof of the entrance hall rising above them. Upon it, just below the level of the window was a small ledge, which encircled the entire cone shaped ceiling.

"Anderson," he called, pointing out through the window.

Anderson ran from the door to the window, and nodded immediately. The bars on the window made it impossible from them to escape through it, but Wu pointed to an area just to the left of it where the wall hadn't been tiled, and was simply made of painted plasterboard. Wu grabbed the desk in front of the wall, and wrenched it away, dragging it back across the room.

Anderson cocked his rifle, and with an immense burst of sound he pulled the trigger, unleashing a spray of bullets at the wall. Bits of plaster exploded from the wall, flying around the room. Wu ducked down behind the desk to protect himself. Haynes swore loudly as he continued to push against the door.

Anderson drew a line with the rifle, carving a man-sized hole in the wall, blasting it away with bullets. Then he ceased fire, and rushed forward, and kicked away the piece of plasterboard which remained in the middle of the hole. It fell away, tumbling out of sight, and daylight streamed into the room, followed by a gust of wind.

Wu came forward, and looked out. The ledge was just below him, barely a five foot jump from his crouched position. Normally he would have been hesitant about doing anything like this; he was well over thirty feet up. But now was no time for vertigo.

The of the genetics lab collapsed with a clatter, and Haynes was thrown backwards across the slick floor. Wood flew across the floor towards them, some jagged pieces embedding themselves into the wall. Standing in the doorway, snarling, were three Dilophosaurs.

"Anderson, get him out of here!" shouted Haynes, scrabbling to his feet.

The Dilophosaurs stooped down as they entered the room, their ten foot tall frames barely able to squeeze though the doorframe. They hooted, and cocked their heads as they saw the humans within the room.

Anderson grabbed Wu by the collar, and forced him down, towards the hole in the wall.

At the sight of him trying to escape, the Dilophosaurs roared, baring their razor sharp fangs, saliva dripping from their mouths into pools on the ground.

Haynes and Anderson immediately opened fire, the room filling with the sound rapid explosions, reverberating off the walls. The first of the Dilophosaurs was riddled with bullets, and it screamed as it went crashing to the floor, blood billowing from its wounds.

But it was too late.

The other two Dilophosaurs lunged forwards, and grabbed Haynes in their jaws. He tried to shoot the both of them, but one of the dinosaurs slashed his shoulder with its claws, and his gun fell from his hand as he gave a howl of pain. They slammed him to the ground, and descended on him immediately. The sound of his screaming filled Wu's ears, and he had the urge to be sick and turned away and leaps from the room through the hole.

His feet hit the brick ledge, and he grabbed the sloping cone ceiling of the building as small pieces of mortar crumbled away beneath him. He slowly began edging his way along, towards the front of the building. Parked in front of the double doors on the side of the road was the Jeep Wrangler, the driver door hanging open.

Behind him there was another burst of gunfire, and a scream of rage from one of the Dilophosaurs. A moment later, Anderson leapt from the genetics lab room and soared through the air towards him. He landed perfectly, like a cat, and pushed Wu forwards roughly.

"Haynes?" said Wu, moving as fast as he could towards the front of the building. Only another ten feet until they were above the double doors.

"No," said Anderson. He stopped for a second, and Wu flinched instinctively, almost losing his grip as Anderson turned and fired another volley of bullets at the lab. A fierce roar tore through the air, full of anger and pain. A second later there was a loud thud from below him, and glancing down he saw that one of the animals had fallen from the lab to the ground below, its head full of punctures.

They were now directly above the entrance to the rotunda, the series of waterfall on either side of the steps running down peacefully.

Anderson shoved him hard in the back, and Wu gave a yell of surprise and he fell through the air. He curled into a ball, keeping the silver case tight to his chest as he plummeted towards the ground.

With a stinging slap he impacted the surface of the water, and was enveloped with water, freezing in comparison to the tropical temperature of the air. His ribs struck the bottom with the momentum of his fall, and he released a stream of bubbles from his mouth as he cried out in pain. A second later Anderson landed beside him.

They both broke the surface, and Wu struggled up and hauled himself out of the water. He staggered to his feet and ran down the steps, the sound of the Dilophosaurs in the visitor centre emanating from behind him.

He looked left and saw Anderson roll down the miniature waterfall, and rise up again a moment later, dragging his legs through the thickness of the water. He leapt up from water, and ran onto the road and around to the driver's door of the Jeep. Wu was close on his heels, and wrenched open the passenger door, and jumped in.

Just as the engine roared to life a Dilophosaur emerged from the jungle directly ahead, and roared. Anderson revved the engine, the motor roaring back. The Dilophosaur snapped its head down, and Wu jumped in his seat as a glob of saliva impacted the windshield.

Anderson stamped on the accelerator, and sped towards the dinosaur.

The Dilophosaur roared again, and charged down the road towards them.

A plume of dirt was kicked up behind the wheels as the Jeep rocketed down the road, and Wu watched the speedometer crawl upwards, until it read an excess of fifty miles an hour. The sound of the engine grew to a high whine, and with a glance Wu saw that Anderson's face was screwed up into a snarl, his eyes wild.

With an almighty crash the Dilophosaur impacted the front of the car. The front bumper crumpled, the squeal of metal filling his ears, the dashboard shaking from the force. The windshield splintered as the animal hit the bumper, and then smashed as the Dilophosaur was forced over the bonnet by momentum. Glass slashed against Wu's face, stinging his skin like needles. The interior of the Jeep was suddenly full of the smell of vomit and dried blood, and faintly he heard the animal give a whimper of pain.

The dark body of the Dilophosaur soared up over the roof of the Jeep, and Wu heard its claws scraping along the roof for an instant, and then the thud against the ground as it rolled off the back. Anderson didn't flinch, and kept his foot on the accelerator, driving the car down the road as fast as he dared; and much faster than Wu would have dared to.

The Jeep exploded from the cover of the jungle, and raced out into the open field towards the helipad. Wu looked at the front bumper of the vehicle, and saw smoke rising from the engine into the air from around the metallic hood cover, glistening in the sun.

The herd of orange dinosaurs they had seen when approaching the island screamed in fright at the sight of them and sped away, running parallel to the Jeep. Their large, clawed feet ripped the grass up in great chunks and sent it hurtling behind them. Anderson accelerated into the herd, driving past the eight feet tall, ostrich like animals. Their screeches reverberated in the small cab of the Jeep, coming in through the broken windshield. Wu covered his ears with his hands as a sharp pain ran through his head with each shriek the animals made.

One of the hind limbs of the dinosaurs struck the passenger side door, leaving a large dent in the metal, the animal wheeling away from the vehicle, howling in pain. Slowly the car pulled ahead of the herd, and roared out into the open field, heading south.

In the distance, on the other side of the field, Wu could see the immense necks of the Brachiosaurs protruding from the edge of the trees, crying mournfully. Down by the lagoon a herd of Parasaurolophus stood knee-deep in the water, chewing on vegetation, their jaws working away, the battery-like teeth grinding up the vegetation.

In front of them a lone Triceratops lumbered from the cover of the trees, and followed the tree line. Its massive form appeared like ghostly spectre slinking its way through the island, haunting the jungles.

Which Wu realised, wasn't that far from the truth, in more ways than one. They were terrifying animals, yes, and they really did seem to haunt you. He had taken the tour once in the Land Cruisers when they were still testing the system, and he dared anybody to do the same without becoming a little afraid.

But the animals were also haunting in another way. They were ghosts. Animals from the past, which had expired millions of years ago now, walked the land again. They were lost in time. A vision of how life once was.

Wu looked out towards the mountains in the north-east, the bare rock at the sharp, jagged peaks shining dully in the sunlight. He squinted through the windshield and he saw a black shape appear in the uniform blue sky. The chopper was coming.

They were saved.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Exodus

The rotors roared overhead as the chopper touched down, and the sound of the waterfall cascading down into the pool behind them filled his ears, blocking every other sound, including his own breathing. The pool of water at the base of the waterfall rippled violently and was forced to the edge of the rock face by the down force of the blades. Grass tore up in great chunks under his boots as he tore down the mud path, the sunlight beating down heavily on the back of his neck. Sweat poured down his face and coated his hands, making it difficult to hold onto the case which bounced around as he ran.

A tiny glance behind his back told him that Anderson had leapt from the driver's seat of the wrangler, and was charging up the small rise after him. The jungle behind them remained blank and innocent, but he didn't see that as any cause to stop, or even slow down.

Wu bent low as he climbed up onto the helipad to avoid the spinning blades and ran for all he was worth, the tarmac crunching under his feet. He hurled himself through the open sliding door of the helicopter into the arms of the crew, dressed in bright orange jackets, who hauled him into a seat and began strapping him in.

Even over the racket around him he could hear a voice shouting in English over the chopper's radio; it sounded adamant and frantic.

Anderson jumped in after him a moment later, his rifle aimed over his shoulder, just in case something snuck on them at the last moment. The crew grabbed him too and forced him into his seat, shouting to each other in Spanish rapidly. The pilot was shouting at them too, gesticulating furiously, and Wu wondered what the hell was going on. He clutched the silver case in his hand as the crew grabbed at handholds, and the pilot lifted the collective stick, causing the helicopter to lift off from the ground. The landing gear squeaked as they left the ground, and there was a brief whir as the wheels retracted into the body of the chopper.

The sound of the waterfall receded into silence as they soared into the air, the foliage below shrinking until individual trees became indistinguishable from each other, transforming into a carpet of greenery which painted the island surface. The sliding doors remained open, and nobody made an effort to close them, instead staring avidly outside, some of them leaning over to get a better look. The slipstream blasted in through the open door, ruffling Wu's hair and snagging at his clothes. He held the case tighter in his arms.

The pilot adjusted the sticks again, and they tilted forwards, and moved away from the mountains, down into the hollowed out cone of the island, maintaining a high altitude unlike before, which caused Wu to frown. He could just about make out the tiny blob which represented the island's lagoon, which was strange, as the lagoon was hundreds of feet wide; they have been at several thousand feet.

"What's going on?" he shouted over the roar of the rotors.

"We had to get you out of there immediately; they're here!" shouted one of the crew into his ear. His thick Spanish accent made it difficult to understand over the howl of the wind the thumping chopper blades.

"What?" shouted Wu, "who's here?"

"The US military, sir!"

"Here? Right now?" Wu said, looking towards the eastern shore of the island, looking for the freighter.

"Yes sir! They're firebombing the island!"

Wu spotted the freighter, exactly where it had been before, turned horizontal to the island a mile offshore. But his eyes widened as he saw half a dozen massive grey ships floating around it, dwarfing the freighter. There was an aircraft carrier, the biggest of them all, laden with aircraft. There were three destroyers circling it, and set off on either side were two frigates. He was surprised; an entire naval battle group had been assembled at the island.

Anderson tapped him on the shoulder, and Wu looked around. Anderson pointed off, out of the other side of the chopper. Wu unstrapped himself, and climbed over, and peered out. At the very northern tip of the island, skirting the peaks of the mountains was a v-shaped formation of black dots. As he watched they cleared the mountain tops and soared down cliff sides, and then levelled out, racing along the island towards them at great speed, only around a hundred feet off of the ground. Within seconds they had traversed a quarter of the distance between the mountains and the choppers. It was then that Wu saw that they were fighter jets.

"F-15's," shouted Anderson.

Now Wu could see the roaring afterburners at the rear of the jets, propelling them forwards. A second later the formation was halfway across the island, still heading straight for them.

Wu looked down, and saw that the chopper was flying over a massive field, lighter green against the jungle. He saw tiny figures moving around, like ants. But he knew that it was the dinosaurs down there; the herbivores.

He looked up again, and was startled to see how close the jets were now. And as he watched he spotted dozens of tiny black specks fall away from the bellies of the fighter jets in a long trail a mile long, plummeting towards the ground. A moment later the ground all along the trail erupted into a spectacular, massive fireball. The fire spread like a snake along the trail, starting furthest away from the chopper and spreading at a hundred miles an hour towards them. Acrid, thick smoke billowed up into the sky, and Wu couldn't see anything of the ground through the fire. The flames soared into the air, hundreds of feet up, and he suddenly realised why they were at such a high altitude. Even now, the force of the explosion buffeted against the side of the chopper, swaying them around inside. The pilot swung the stick around furiously, trying to maintain control. Wu could feel the heat from here, like harsh sunlight striking his left cheek, but it was almost as if the fire were only feet away.

The F-15's pulled up as they approached the chopper, and shot over the top of the rotors with only twenty metres to spare. The roar of their engines overwhelmed Wu's ears for a moment, and the chopper swayed again as the slipstream collided with them.

He heard the pilot curse, and they paused in mid-air for a moment as he regained control of the helicopter. Wu looked down, and watched as the field full of dinosaurs burst into flames, and the animals were engulfed in fire.

The jets darted out to the eastern shore as the helicopter tilted forwards again, and Wu saw that the naval fleet was much closer now; they were only a mile away from the eastern beach. The jets banked right, and skirted the shoreline down to the southern tip, which took mere seconds, their afterburners flaring powerfully. Then they banked again, and blasted forwards in a straight line, heading north. They fanned out, and Wu counted seven fighter jets spread out heading back towards them. Wu watched as the whole of the southern portion of the island was set alight, mushroom cloud shaped balls of flame floated upwards, making a screen of dark black smoke and red flame. The fire was like liquid; it spread forwards like water, a tidal wave rushing over the surface of the island, igniting everything in its path.

Wu looked down again, and he saw the main gate of the island; the large stone structure standing proud, which would have heralded the arrival of so many tourists.

But a second later it was lost in another wave of fire, and the jets swooped underneath them once more.

Wu couldn't help but feel a little sad as he watched the destruction unfold before him. The animals were a miracle of science, and were truly wild, a group of organisms from a bygone era. And they were innocent in their own way; they were just doing what they did. And there was no promise that these animals would ever be able to be created again. But this is what had to happen. And there wasn't anything that he could do about it.

He sat back in his seat, and looked down at the case in his arms as the chopper flew out over the ocean, leaving Isla Nublar consumed in flames.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Tabula Rasa

The ice cubes clinked in the small glass as it was turned slowly in the withered hand, the rich auburn liquid flowing from side to side, swelling over the bulges of the ice. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, the only light available came from a few candles which burned in brackets on the walls. John Hammond stared down into his glass as he listened to the voices emanating from the large television set.

"So what you're saying is that there's a conspiracy?" said a female voice off-screen.

"No, but those people didn't die in any gas leak," said Ian Malcolm's voice, his vocalisations scratchier on TV than they were in real life.

"But Doctor," said the female reporter, "the bodies were recovered, and they were burnt badly. What else could it have been?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that. All I can say is that the public is being lied to."

"Now, Dr. Malcolm, an InGen spokesperson has responded to your accusations, saying that you're selling wild stories to the press—"

Hammond clicked the power button on the remote control, and the TV cut her voice of mid-sentence, the screen becoming uniform black instantly. The flames of the candles around him were reflected in the glass. He shifted slightly in the large leather armchair, and looked up.

Peter Ludlow stood stiffly four feet from the door, the thick carpet threatening to envelop his expensive shoes. He stared directly at his uncle, unmoving, simply waiting for him to speak.

"It is finished, then?" said Hammond finally, and took a sip of whisky.

"It is," said Ludlow. "The animals have been destroyed by the US army; they used napalm. Our people moved in afterwards and retrieved the bodies of the deceased, as you may have heard," he nodded to the television.

"What about our equipment? Do we have to worry about any reverse engineering from the wreckage?"

Ludlow shook his head, and clasped his hands in front of him, as if proud of himself for having the competence to think through all the details. "We're deconstructing the buildings on the islands. It'll take a while, everything is burned. And we're being forced to pay compensation to the Costa Ricans for the damage to island. It was only leased. Not that the US army is going to help us out there."

"How did Henry do?"

"We have all of the data files on archive now. The GAP files are complete. He also managed to retrieve a full set of embryos from the Cryo-Storage lab. I've sent them to the vault underneath the headquarters building."

Hammond nodded, simply taking another drink. He sighed in distant appreciation, and then said, "How is the army reacting?"

"Fining us for forcing them to act in such a manner, but we weren't breaking any Costa Rican laws, so they can't do anything else."

"Will they let the story go public?"

"They could. But they won't; why start a panic when you can just cover it up?"

Hammond nodded again. He puts his fingers to his temples, and massaged his head gently, thinking things over. Ludlow simply stood, waiting. John looked up, and saw that Ludlow was waiting to tell him something.

"Is there anything else?" he said, setting his glass down on the coffee table beside him.

"The tropical storm surges we were monitoring over the Las Cinco Muertes islands got far worse yesterday. Hurricane Clarissa passed right over Isla Sorna. From what our satellite images tell us our facilities were hit hard; it'll cost more to restore it than it would to start again somewhere else."

"What happened to the animals?"

"It appears that most of them survived, according to infrared scans. They were released from their holding pens before we evacuated to give them the best chance to find cover."

Hammond shook his head. "An act of God, as it were," he muttered.

He chucked to himself lightly at Ludlow's strained expression. "We leave Sorna for the time being. Cover it up, keep it from the public."

"That would be very expensive, Uncle," said Ludlow, taking a step forwards.

"It doesn't matter what it costs, Peter. The world isn't ready for this."

Ludlow seemed to have an idea occur to him suddenly, and his eyes became animated, his hands wringing. "What if we sent in a team? We can send a full scale expedition to Isla Sorna, the best that money can buy. We can get the animals now while they're still young, and bring them back to the mainland. We can save millions; get the company back on track."

John looked at him for a moment, taking single, deep breath. And then he shook his head minutely. "No, Peter. The island will remain hidden."

"How long do you really think that you can keep something like this a secret, Uncle?

Hammond looked up at him for several moments; a long, piercing stare. "For as long as I can. One way or another; something will survive.'


End file.
